Play With Fire
by onceuponatimelady
Summary: AU: Gwen Lovet has been searching for the demon that killed her family for five years. Just when she's starting to give up hope, she runs into two brothers who know what it's like to lose family to demons. This fic begins in place of episode 1:13 of Supernatural. There is no Cassie Robinson in this universe. Very slow burn. Dean x OC. TW: sexual assault/attempted rape.
1. Chapter 1

"For the first time on our main stage, please welcome Cherry!" The DJ sounded a bit more enthusiastic whenever it was a new girl's first time. Almost as if he were trying to encourage the clients to pay attention. The first few notes of the song began, and Cherry strode out onto the stage.

A wolf whistle erupted from the crowd and her grin curved full lips upward, right hand gripping the pole just before she launched her body around it. Dozens of pairs of eyes were glued to her lithe form as she spun around the pole, landing on four-inch heels and immediately lowering to the floor, hips swaying seductively to the music. She scanned the crowd, dark eyes sliding past her coworkers working in the midst and pausing the barest second on each customer's face. Which was the one she was looking for?

As the lyrics began, her eyes locked onto the pair coming in. "She's my cherry pie. Cool drink of water such a sweet surprise. Tastes so good makes a grown man cry. Sweet Cherry Pie."

The taller one looked a little embarrassed, while the shorter had a shit-eating grin curving his features. She could tell they weren't usual's of the Foxxy Lady, even if she had only been there a few weeks. They carried themselves differently, more like cops. But without that air of authority, and that was enough for her to keep an eye on them.

Turning her back on the crowd, one fluid motion had the men cheering – she flipped to a handstand, wrapped her thighs around the pole, and swung her torso up to grab the top. Then she released her legs, bending them at the knee so that her toes brushed against her ass, and slowly spun around the pole until she landed at the bottom. Thank God for the other girls and their willingness to teach. She'd spent hours perfecting her first main stage performance. Her body needed to move without thought, so that she could focus on the clients. While choreographed moves continued, her eyes followed the pair as they approached the bar, clearly discussing something that couldn't be heard over the music. She thought she could see the taller one's mouth curving around the words, "enjoying … too much."

The other seemed to reply, "... just … gig."

Her eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly as she realized what they were. There was a moment when things clicked, and this was not a click she had been expecting. Nothing could explain how she suddenly just knew what they were, it just … clicked. But now was not the time to worry about them. As her body writhed on the stage, one hand slithered behind her neck and deftly untied the halter string. Black silk cascaded down her form, crumpling around blood red stilettos and revealing nothing more than a perfectly matched red thong. Gyrating in a lazy circle, foot sweeping at the mini dress, she brushed it to the back of the stage and out of the way. Now for the fun part...

Getting down onto all fours, she crawled to the left side of the stage, chocolate brown eyes glued to the middle aged man sitting there. Flashing a sexy little smirk, she rose to her knees before him and began to sway. Chubby fingers clutched at her flesh, watery blue eyes never straying from porcelain skin. It was the draw of the main stage: the ability to touch the girls without having to pay for a lap dance. Her expression remained flirty as a sweaty palm kneaded her ass, the other hand tucking a dollar into the thong, all while her mind was racing through endless possibilities. By the time she moved on to the next patron, she knew he wasn't the one she was looking for.

As she made her way around the stage, thong filling with bills, hands lingering all over her body, flirty banter passing between her and the male and female patrons, she never stopped processing. She nearly bumped into one of the shot girls once, moving from a woman to the man beside her. He'd been accepting a drink from the bustier-wearing redhead holding a round tray of varying alcoholic beverages when Cherry slid in front of him. The three chuckled at the near mishap, her coworker flashing a brilliant smile before she turned to deliver the rest of her drinks. The man placed his gin and tonic on the bar shelf beneath the stage and reached up to caress Cherry's breasts. Before long, she was moving again, searching faces and body language and whatever other subtle cues could tell her what she wanted to know. And when she got to the last of them, that fucking hunter, she was starting to worry she'd missed something.

"Hey there," the hunter grinned up at her, his slightly taller partner lingering at the bar.

"Hi," she replied in her sexiest voice, the stupidest "dumb slut" expression she could muster on her face.

"You work here long?" he asked. Why wasn't he touching her yet? All the others barely waited half a second before leaving heat trails cooling on naked skin.

Relentlessly she gyrated, hips never missing a beat, arms dancing above her before sliding down her chest and over her stomach, "Long enough," she gave him her most dazzling smile.

He held a twenty folded lengthways between to fingers, "Any chance I could get your first lap dance?"

She glanced behind her, gesturing to the man opposite with her chin while simultaneously winking at the middle aged man, "Owen already secured that spot … but you can touch me now."

Brown eyes flicked back, startled to find his greens not looking over her body, but locked onto hers, "How about second then?"

For a split second, her expression faltered. How much did this guy know? Why was he being so weird?And most importantly, was he going to get in her way?

"You got it, sugar." Nimble fingers plucked the bill from between his as she leaned forwards, letting her breasts brush against sculpted cheekbones. Rising to her feet, she went back to the pole.

Hands grasped firmly before legs spread into an aerial split, as she climbed hand over hand to the top. Thighs were brought together around cool metal and gripped tightly. Ab muscles locked, fingers released, spine slowly lowering until it pressed against the pole. Arms stretched out toward the floor, thighs gently relaxed just enough for her to begin sliding downwards. When palms touched the stage, legs released and spread into a split before coming back together above her. The last note of the song rang out and the DJ's voice boomed out over the speakers.

"Once again, ladies and gentlemen, give it up for Cherry!"

Moving so fast you could almost call it a flip, stilettos hit the stage while chestnut locks danced about creamy shoulders. A quick glance over her shoulder at the crowd with a sultry wink and she was off the stage, swooping to gather up the tiny dress just before disappearing behind the curtain.

And now the real work begins.


	2. Chapter 2

The longer the night drew on, the more frustrated she became. Thus far she had ruled out all of her old suspects without coming up with any new ones. And the later it got, the more she knew she couldn't avoid those hunters forever. Why were they even here? It had taken her three months to get this far, those first six weeks all spent doing research. There was a small part of her that was impressed with these two. If they had put together the same pieces she had, they must be damn good hunters. Young, though. The youngest she had seen, even though they appeared to be the same age she was. But the last thing she needed was a couple greenhorns getting in the way … Or worse, getting someone killed. Still … it couldn't hurt to find out how much they really knew, right?

Weaving her way through scattered tables and milling patrons, she perfected her "dumb slut" expression. The less they expected of her, the less likely they would get in her way. Sex kitten smile curved porcelain features just as she drew near the pair.

"Hey there, sugar." Leaning up against the green eyed beauty, her next words were spoken loudly enough that they could be heard over the music, but quietly enough that they still sounded like a whisper, "You ready for that dance, yet?"

The man cast a glance at his partner before unleashing a dazzling grin of his own, "Lead the way."

Taking his hand, her swaying hips guided him through the crowd and toward the back room. As they passed through the doorway, cubicles with leather cushioned booths beckoned. Turning a corner, she headed straight for the booth at the end of the little hall.

"Trying to hide me away, Cherry Pie?"

"I like a little privacy," she cooed with a wicked smirk and a glint in her eyes, "And it's just Cherry."

"Right," he murmured as she gently pushed him backwards and down onto the leather.

She began to dance for him, sultry gyrations that matched the beat of whatever modern dance song that happened to be playing. Turning her back on him, hands swept up her legs and caught the hem of her dress, sliding it up to reveal just a hint of her perfectly formed ass. As her hands continued up her body, the fabric released with a swish as it settled about her upper thighs again. Fingers crept until they buried in her hair and she turned around again.

There was something in his expression that was seriously off-putting. Oh, sure, the lust was there. That animalistic desire that lie in the hearts of most everyone. But there was something else too... An almost artistic appreciation. His eyes roamed her form, soaking in every last millimeter of her. Suddenly, six weeks of lap dances for total pervs was preferable. At least then she'd known exactly what it was they wanted. She'd take all the lip licks and wolf eyed stares in the world over whatever the hell it was this guy was doing. No one had looked at her like this since … well, since the first time she'd met her last boyfriend. And that was …. seven years ago?

But rather than waste time trying to decipher the nuances of expression, she decided instead to focus on what she wanted to know. Cherry climbed onto his lap, one leg squarely planted on either side of him and slowly wiggled, her spine curving from side to side with the music, "What's your name, honey?"

"Dean."

"Is this your first time at the Foxxy Lady? I haven't seen you around before."

"Yeah … my brother and I, we're just passing through town."

"Brother, huh? Hmmm, I'd had him pegged as your partner," nimble fingers raked through his hair, "You two carry yourselves like cops."

He laughed, "No. Definitely not cops."

Even though his hands were on her, passing over silk and onto skin, running back up and knicking under the fabric to caress over her ass and up her back, it was still unsettling. She's gotten used to the pinches, the ass slaps, the grabbing and groping back in her first week working as a stripper. But this was different. His grip wasn't firm, but gentle. There was none of the pain in his touch that she'd found in that of the regulars of the club. Why couldn't he just be like everyone else? Maybe it wouldn't have been quite so unnerving if he wasn't so damned confident or so devastatingly handsome. But as strange as the whole experience was, there wasn't the slightest hint of her inner woe displayed on her face. One thing this job had taught her was how to mask her true thoughts and feelings from men.

"What then?" her hand slipped below her hair and untied the halter string, "Security guards? Bounty hunters?" In one swift move, the dress was up over her head and tossed into a heap on the floor.

He chuckled, green eyes searching her face for … something, "Just brothers on a road trip."

"Hence the 'just passing through'." Hips swayed endlessly, their hands trailing over each other.

"Right," he smirked, "But I have to say, this is one of the nicest clubs I've been in."

"Not bad for a small town, huh?" Cool skin pressed against cotton as she slid her torso up his and back down again.

"Not at all," his eyes slithered downward, taking in her form, "Seems like an old building through. You ever notice anything odd?"

Ah. Now it was time for him to question her. It was a fight to keep her expression neutral, "Odd? … What do you mean?"

"Well old buildings … they can be pretty drafty. You ever feel any cold spots? … Or even something as strange as a bad smell. Rotten eggs?"

So they were still crossing off creatures. Looks like they're pretty clueless. She shook her head, dark curls bouncing about her shoulders, "Nothing like that. In fact, this is a pretty normal place. Nothing really sticks out. Just your typical club. … The only 'odd' thing is some of the guys, but they're all harmless."

"What would you say is odd about them?"

"Well … you're the oddest I've seen, to be honest. Most guys are rough. Grabby. They pinch and squeeze … like they know this is their only shot to be a little rougher with a girl. It's strange to have someone be so gentle."

He laughed, "I don't think I've ever been called gentle before."

The smirk she flashed was her sultriest. Then she leaned in close to his ear, murmuring, "I never said it was a bad thing."

His chuckle was soft as she pulled back, his eyes catching hers, "You're not so bad yourself."

"So I've been told," she quipped. The song was reaching its last notes, "But unless you're looking to pay for another dance, our time together is coming to an end."

A slight frown flashed across his face, disappearing in a second, "Well, maybe we'll come back before we leave town."

Her voice was filled with sincerity, "I'd like that."

And then she began to mentally curse herself. What the fuck was that all about? "I'd like that?" She wasn't supposed to be actually flirting with him. It was always just for show. She wasn't supposed to find him attractive. And she definitely wasn't supposed to enjoy his company. This was a job. Just another job. And he was a bumbling hunter who was threatening to muck up three months of work. So where the hell had that come from?


	3. Chapter 3

The hours could not pass fast enough. Knowing that there was nothing more that she could glean from the club, finishing her shift was difficult. With no signs of creatures, and no clues as to a human perpetrator, Cherry was left puzzled. The time until closing ticked by while her brain was working overtime. Who was responsible for these deaths? One a year, always during the same week, a woman from this club vanished. Her body would be found within the following month, drained of blood, mostly burned, missing a few bones. It was a miracle the police department was able to identify them. For the past three years, a woman vanished. Not just any woman, either – the newest headliner. It had taken six weeks of working at the Foxxy Lady, six weeks of endless practice, to ensure that she would be able to headline at the right time. Two weeks in and she'd realized that these deaths were not supernaturally caused. But she still hadn't left. She didn't care who it was that had killed those three girls, they weren't going to hurt anyone else.

Since then, she'd kept an eye on all the people who trickled through the club. Knowing it was likely a long-time regular of the main stage, it was hard for her to cross off suspects. Until tonight. And each of them had been methodically checked. None fit her criteria. It was possible that the patron she was looking for hadn't come in that night. After all, even regulars had lives … other obligations. But now her life was on the line and she had five days left.

Finally, the last patron left. She breathed a mixed sigh of relief and exhaustion as her shift ended. It was time for a long shower and a couple of beers. Maybe tomorrow she'd find the guy she was looking for. Cherry headed to the dressing room and changed into a soft pink sweater and jeans, swapping her stilettos for black boots. She tucked her work clothes into a cloth bag and shrugged into her tan wool peacoat.

Weary feet led her out of the building and onto the parking lot, gravel crunching beneath the boots as they went. It had been a long shift and her mind was tired from hyper-vigilance. It was nice to take a breather and switch to autopilot. As she walked along the side of the building toward the back lot where she had parked, she reveled in allowing her exhausted brain a few moments of relaxation and fuzziness. She barely registered the sound of the club's door closing behind her; hardly noticing the clacking steps that sounded with hers. What little of it did make its way into her senses were no cause for alarm. Just another girl headed home for the night.

Warning bells clanged in her head just seconds before she felt an arm snaking around her shoulders. A pair of breasts pressed against her back as the other arm held a knife to her throat, "Don't fight. Just come with me."

A pause of disbelief hung in the air for half a breath, "Sondra?"

"I wish it didn't have to be this way. I really do. But this is what my master demands of me." Sondra sounded almost apologetic through her determination.

Cherry allowed the other woman to guide her, even though she could have taken her out quickly. She knew that in order to permanently end the annual killings, she'd have to get to whoever was controlling Sondra. And in order to get there in one piece, she'd have to keep Sondra calm, "Ok … ok, Sondra. Just tell me what to do."

"Go to my car," the other girl demanded, using her body to push her toward the back lot.

"You got it," she walked slowly. There was only about ten yards left to the end of the building, and she intended to get as much information as she could in the time that she was alone with Sondra.

"I don't want to hurt you."

"I know," she answered soothingly, "None of this is your fault right? It's your master. … What … what is he going to do with me?"

Just then, two figures rounded the corner before them. One glance, and Cherry knew there was going to be trouble. Dammit.

They both raised weapons, aiming at the two girls. Dean scowled, "Let her go."

Dammit, dammit, dammit! She'd known they were going to get in the way. Sondra's grip tightened, the knife pressing closer against pale skin. Shit. These moronic hunters were going to get her killed. Not exactly the way that she'd pictured it.

"Back off," Sondra called, a touch of fear in her tone, "I'll kill her!"

"Well that's your plan, isn't it?" Dean's brother demanded, "You're going to kill her and drain her blood. Then you'll toss her into a fire before dumping her body in an alley."

"It's not my fault!" she cried

"I know, Sondra." Cherry's voice was quiet. Her tone was understanding and gentle, trying to make it seem like she was on her side, "It's not you. You don't want to hurt anyone."

"I don't," she whispered, tears in her voice, "I really don't."

"It's your master doing all of this, isn't it? The killing, the draining, the burning, the dumping. That's not you, is it? You couldn't be such a great shot girl if you were capable of something like that."

"She makes me bring them to her," she mumbled, so quiet she could barely be heard. Cherry knew that their little conversation never made it to the ears of the brothers. They seemed to be uncomfortable with not knowing what the girls were talking about.

"Just let her go and no one gets hurt!" Dean's voice had dropped an octave, making him sound dangerous and sexy. No, dammit. Not sexy. He is not sexy, he is a stupid man who is about to get her killed. She could have kept talking Sondra down. She could have kept her calm. Now he's here yelling at her and threatening her. Definitely not sexy.

"I can't," Sondra snapped, losing patience, "You don't understand. This isn't my choice. I have to bring her!"

"You always have choice," Dean's brother insisted.

"Well I don't!" Her voice was rising to a shriek, "If there was another way, don't you think I would be doing it? These girls are my friends!"

"We're not going to let you take her." Dean frowned, "So you might as well let her go."

Cherry could feel Sondra shaking her head, "I can't. I can't. You don't understand. I can't!"

And then she changed her grip on the knife. She raised her hand, the tip of the blade pointing at Cherry. Instantly, a hundred possibilities whirled through her head. Different blocking maneuvers, ways to break out of a hold, muscle memorized fighting moves for both defense and offense. No matter what, she knew she needed to keep Sondra alive in order to find the "master" she was working for. The second she decided, she began to raise her left arm, intending to elbow the other girl in the stomach to break free.

But that wasn't going to happen. The crack echoed around them, a flash bursting from the barrel of Dean's gun. Sondra's arms dropped away, the knife clattering to the ground, and she fell backward. Cherry whirled, watching helplessly as red bloomed on Sondra's forehead. Glassy blue eyes stared straight up. There was no saving her. She was gone.

"Dammit!" Cherry cried, spinning to glower at the pair, "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Wait … what?" Dean's brother queried.

"What's wrong with _us_? We just saved your life! … Can you _believe_ this, Sam?"

She snorted. What simple minded bastards. Can't see more than two feet in front of their faces, "No. You didn't."

Long legs stomped toward the pair, pushing her way between them and into the back lot, "You just signed some other girl's death warrant."

Gravel skittered as she made her way to a dark green '99 Dodge Intrepid, the boys following warily behind her. She popped the trunk and tucked the bag to the side, pulling out her stilettos and pausing with them in her hands when Sam spoke.

"What are you talking about?" he questioned, "We just stopped the killer."

"No," her brows pulled together as she stared him down, "you just shot the gopher."

She turned to face them, "Sondra was working for someone."

"Who?" Dean asked.

"I don't know," she snapped, whipping her heels into the trunk so hard it was a miracle they didn't puncture the vehicle's carpeting, "Someone was a little trigger happy." Brown eyes glared at Dean.

The brothers exchanged looks. Just as Sam was opening his mouth to ask her something else, she lifted a hidden lid in her trunk and revealed a secret compartment filled with a variety of weapons, books, amulets and other protection items. She snatched up a Glock 41 and checked the magazine.

"You're a _hunter_?" Dean was incredulous.

A scowl darkened her features as she clicked the magazine back into place, "What? Didn't think a woman could do what you do?"

"We've seen female hunters before … just never one who-"

"Stripped?" she interrupted.

"Worked alone," Sam finished, "Every time we've met a woman who hunted, she's always been partnered with someone."

"And those have been few and far between. There aren't many women who want to do this job."

"I don't think anyone _wants_ to do this job." She grabbed a second magazine and stuck it in her pocket before closing the compartment. Slamming the trunk lid closed, she turned to face them again, "It's not like there were any hunters showing up at career day. We were all inducted into this gig in one way or another."  
"So what's your story?" Sam asked.

"Unfortunately, sweet cakes, I don't have time to play story hour." Moving away from the trunk, Cherry started for the driver's side door.  
"Where are you going?" Dean frowned.

"Sondra's house. If I'm going to have any hope of finding this 'master' of hers, I'll need a look around. I'd say it was nice to meet you boys, but considering how you just fucked up three months of work … well, it would be a lie."

With that she swept into her car and slammed the door. With a roar the vehicle sprang to life and peeled out of the parking lot.

Dean glanced at his brother, "You know we're going after her, right, Sammy?"

With a sigh, Sam nodded and the two rushed to the black Impala to follow her.


	4. Chapter 4

Thank God Sondra had that party a few weeks back. At least she knew where she was going. The thought of searching Sondra's body for ID to find an address made her squeamish. It's not that she wasn't used to dealing the dead bodies; they came with being a hunter. But none of them had been a coworker. There was just something very different about a corpse that belonged to someone you knew.

It took seconds to find Sondra's hide-a-key. Just last week they'd discussed good places to keep an extra key after Cherry had thought she'd lost hers in the communal dressing room. The two had chatted while they looked and Sondra offered the location of her spare without a thought. Now she was dead and Cherry was about to search her home.

The door opened into a tiny kitchen, "If I were information … where would I be?"

Moving through the apartment, she looked quickly to see if anything popped at her. Trying not to get frustrated, she began muttering to herself. The creaking of footsteps didn't escape her. Creeping back toward the kitchen, she withdrew the Glock and undid the safety. She then dashed through the doorway, weapon raised at … Dean and his brother.

"What the hell?" Fury glowed in dark eyes, "You're following me now? You must have a death wish."

Sam's hands raised in a peacemaking gesture, "We just want to help."

"_Help?_" The gun held steady, aimed at the pair, "Are you insane? After everything you've already done, why the fuck would I allow you within a hundred feet of my gig?!"

"Look, I know we made a mistake -"

"A mistake," Cherry interrupted Sam, glowering at him, "Well I would hope it was just a mistake and that you didn't shoot my coworker just for the fun of it."

"I was just trying to protect you." Dean said quietly.

Enraged eyes swiveled to the shorter brother, "I didn't need your protection."

"We didn't know that." Sam replied, slowly lowering his hands, "We thought that you were going to be the next victim. … I'm sorry for what happened. But, please let us help."

It was a fight to tamp back the temper she'd inherited from her father. Finally, she clicked on the safety and returned the gun to the waistband of her jeans, "Fine."

She gestured helplessly at the small apartment, "I have no idea how to find what I'm looking for anyways. And I'd rather not spend an entire night searching this place, so let's get going, huh?"

"What are we looking for, exactly?" Dean queried.

"Anything that can tell us the name or location of this 'master' of hers. Whoever it was has been forcing Sondra to bring women to her for the past three years. There's got to be something that will connect the two of them here."

The three quickly got to work. Sam went to Sondra's lap top, Dean poking around the cabinets of the kitchen, and Cherry went back into the bedroom. They searched quietly. The boys didn't want to risk Cherry's fury, and she was just used to working on her own. It never occurred to her to make conversation. About ten minutes later, Sam called out from the living room.

"I've got something!"

The other two crowded around him and the lap top. Sam pointed to the day planner on the screen, "It took me a little while to break the password, but it was worth it. Turns out, Sondra was meticulous about her day planner. Wrote everything down. Lucky break, because she happened to include the address of one Miranda Valencia. There are scattered appointments with her throughout the year, but always one during this week. And all four years, those have been starred."

"Looks like we know where we're going." Cherry moved away from the computer, heading for the door in the kitchen.

"Whoa, hang on a second." Dean stepped in front of her, "You're just going to run to this place, with no idea of who this chick is?"

"Are you telling me you wouldn't?"

"Well … no. But I'm not the one who was meant to be the next victim."

"Let's just hope Miranda doesn't know that." Cherry brushed past him, but didn't get far. He grabbed her arm.

"Are you sure you're not the one with the death wish?"

Brows furrowed and she wrenched her arm out of his hold, "Your right to touch me ended when that song did."

He raised his palms, "Look, I'm not trying to piss you off. I just want to make sure that you're thinking about this."

"As far as I'm concerned, Miranda has caused the death of four women. I have no guarantee that with Sondra gone, she won't go after someone else. And I, for one, intend to make sure she doesn't get the chance to hurt anyone else. Even if I have to hog tie her and drop her off at the police station."

With that, Cherry whirled, leaving the boys no choice but to run after her. She barely waited for them to get into their car before she was roaring away from the apartment building. Her heart was pounding the entire drive, lips pressed into a thin line of worry. The Intrepid raced through the streets, Impala following closely behind. Her biggest concern was that Miranda had opted to find a girl of her own, instead of waiting for Sondra. Living in the town had done her some good, as she remembered the street listed in the address from a Sunday drive. The area was heavily wooded, the road unpaved. Two vehicles bumped and jostled down the drive, having no choice but to lower their speed. The road twisted and turned, finally ending in front of an old building. There were no other vehicles in sight, which made Cherry relax. It looked like Miranda was still waiting for Sondra after all. Stepping from her car, dark eyes drank in the scene. The wooden house looked abandoned. It was so dilapidated that no one could possibly be living there. As the brothers approached, she noticed the dancing of firelight behind the house.

With a nod between them, Dean led the way. All three had weapons drawn, unsure of just what they would find. They moved without sound, hardly daring to breathe. Turning the corner, they paused at the strange setting before them. A large fire roared in a pit dug deep into the earth. Behind the flames was a bloodied table adorned with straps for holding limbs. A second table held vials of powders and liquids, along with a few large buckets and an array of knives. Cherry stepped forward, bewildered. This was something she'd never seen the like of before.

"You're not who I was expecting," the melodic voice came from the shadowed trees seconds before the woman stepped into the light. One hand rested on the first table, looking menacing in the flickering light. The rest of her was shrouded with a black cloak.

"Sorry to disappoint you." Dean's gun was aimed through the flames at her.

"Miranda," Cherry called, "Sondra is dead. … You don't have to keep doing this."

"Oh, but I do." Her hands lifted to lower the hood, green eyes drinking in the light of the fire. They seemed to burn with a wicked glow, set deeply into a tanned face. She was beautiful. Long blonde hair, wide eyes and full lips. The kind of girl you would more likely see on the cover of a magazine than cutting into another woman, "I still have so much to discover."

Cherry stepped sideways, moving so slowly that at first the brothers didn't notice. By the time she was out of arms reach, Sam finally caught the movement. But he knew that there would be no stopping her now. She held her Glock trained on the girl across from her. And then Miranda smiled.

"It was supposed to be you, wasn't it. … Oh, my Sondra. She never could see past a pretty face."

"It's over, Miranda." Cherry's voice was hard, her jaw set, "You're not going to hurt anyone else."

The woman laughed, watching as Cherry stepped closer, feeling safe behind the barrel of her gun, "Oh, it's far from over."

Miranda's arm flashed, a knife grazing Cherry's hand. Recoiling without intention, the gun slipped from her grasp. One of the brothers took a shot, but there was no pause in Miranda. She rushed forward, tackling Cherry to the ground. But there was one thing that the woman hadn't expected – Cherry's natural fighting ability. Within seconds, Miranda was on the ground, Cherry sitting on her stomach with the Glock pointing in her face. Still, though, that damned smirk curved tanned features.

She could hear Sam and Dean approaching, her racing heart beginning to slow, "It's over."

It felt like a bee sting. A small little pinprick in the back of her thigh. Nothing more than an irksome irritation. That grew. It was like a fever concentrated to one area. No … that moved. It slithered up her thigh, curving around her hip, and settling square in her stomach. Cherry dropped her gun a second time, arms wrapping around her torso as a pain-filled cry escaped her lips. It was a molten ball of lead that just grew heavier with each second until she feared her spine would break from the weight. Curled into the fetal position, she tried to scream but only breathed a whimper. Her entire body broke into a sweat, began to shake from the pain.

And then Dean was there, hovering over her, his face stricken with fear, "Cherry? What's happening? … Cherry, talk to me!"

Tears streamed down her face. There was a fire in her stomach, flames licking up her throat. When she coughed, blood streamed from her mouth. Her eyes caught his, lips moving, her voice a breath on the wind.

"Say that again … come on, Cherry. Stay with me."

"My name ..." she whimpered, "is Gwen."

And then the world went black.


	5. Chapter 5

Everything came in stages. First it was the abating of the horror in her torso. It lifted slowly, easing back until there was nothing left but a minimal soreness. Then sounds broke into her consciousness – crackling flames, shuffling boots, leaves rustling in the wind. She felt a light touch brushing her hair back from her forehead, a warm hand nestled beneath her neck.

"Is it working?" Sam's voice, tinged with concern.

Dean's was closer, a worried low tone, "I don't know."

Then the taste came. It was sickly sweet, laced with an undertone of metal, and tasted cold. Her mouth felt warm, but all she could taste was cold. She coughed just before her eyes popped open, staring up into Dean's face.

"Gwen?" His brows were furrowed, green eyes desperately seeking assurance. When she struggled to sit up, he assisted her, "Are you ok?"

She nodded, not quite trusting her voice just yet. A small coughing fit cleared her throat and she made a face at the residual taste in her mouth, "What the hell was that?"

"Liquid hex bag." Sam replied, squatting near the two of them and gently placing a hand on her shoulder, "Are you sure you're ok?"

She nodded again, "I am now. … I mean, my mouth tastes disgusting and I feel a little sore, but otherwise I'm fine. … Liquid what now? … There's no such thing."

"That's what we thought too," Dean continued to talk quietly, as if trying not to startle her, "Turns out, Miranda's a witch. She's been making blood spells, experimenting until she finds something that works. The liquid hex bag was a new spell."

"And what, I was the guinea pig?"

"No, she was. Which is a good thing, because she had an antidote on her … just in case she ever accidentally pricked herself with the syringe holding the spell." Sam held up the empty syringe.

"What does this have to do with Sondra?"

Dean drew a breath, sharing a glance with Sam before answering, "Sondra brought Miranda the girls. One body's worth of blood was enough to last a year. … In return, Sondra was given one of Miranda's first blood spells … anti-aging."

"They've been doing this for nineteen years. Every five years they'd move to a new area, so no one would notice that they weren't growing older. Sondra decided that young, beautiful women made the anti-aging spell work better, which is why she would pick the 'best' from whatever club she was working in."

Gwen stared at Sam in disbelief. Both brothers were startled when she burst out with, "That _bitch!_"

She struggled to her feet and began to pace, the living embodiment of rage, "She made me pity her! I thought she was caught in something she couldn't control, but _no_. … She picked them?! _She _chose the victims? … She _encouraged _me to go for headliner! She acted like my friend, pretended to be supportive … all so she could _look younger?!_ She's lucky she's already dead or I would fucking kill her myself!" Gwen paused just long enough to make the boys think she was done with her rant before yelling, "Fucking _bitch_!"

It was at that moment that Gwen realized she hadn't seen Miranda since she'd woken. She looked about the area but didn't see her, "Where's the witch?"

"Dead," Sam rose to his feet, gesturing to the fire, "She'll be the last burned body they find."

"Good." Gwen stared at the flames, "It's better than she deserves."

"I gotta agree with you there," Dean nodded.

She turned to face the two of them, "Look … Thanks, guys. I know I tried to push you away and … Well, if it weren't for you two, I'd be dead."

Sam shook his head, "It's nothing -"

She raised her hand to stop him, "Trust me. Not many people get to hear this, so enjoy it, ok? It's not often I admit that I was wrong about something."

Sam glanced at his brother, "Yeah, I have no idea what that's like."

She smiled, shaking her head lightly, "Anyways … do you guys have a place to stay tonight? My apartment is fully furnished, two bedrooms. And the couch is pretty comfortable."

"Sounds great," Dean returned the smile. Gwen didn't pick up on the raised eyebrow from Sam, directed at his brother.

"It's not far. Just follow me, ok?"

The trio made their way back to their cars and began the jostling drive back down the road. Within ten minutes they were pulling to a stop in front of a two story house. Gwen parked behind the building, the Impala pulling into a space beside her. She got out of the Intrepid and gestured up at the second floor.

"I'm up there."

Three weary bodies climbed the stairs and walked into a small but cozy apartment. Gwen headed immediately for the fridge, pulling out a few beers, "Here, guys. … Do you mind if I shower? I still have the smell of old man clinging to me."

"Not at all," Dean grabbed one of the bottles, "Thanks."

With a small smile, Gwen turned down a hall and headed into the bathroom. When the sound of the running shower met their ears, Sam turned to his brother, "I'm just saying, Dean. … Was this really necessary? We could have just gone back to the motel. We're going to have to go back to get our stuff anyways."

"Hey, you heard her, right?" Dean cracked open the beer and took a long swig, "She doesn't admit that she's wrong. And I've got a feeling she doesn't admit when she's scared either."

"What makes you think she's scared?"

"The fact that she invited us to stay with her. … Come on, Sammy. How long did it take you to know that a hunter doesn't start on a gig without setting up a home base first? Gwen knew we had stumbled onto her case. She knew we were working. But she still invited us to stay with her."

"That's … pretty thin, Dean."

"A friend of hers just tried to sacrifice her so she could stay young and beautiful. … And you don't think she's freaked out?"

Sam paused, the corners of his mouth pulling down for a second. He nodded and took the second beer, "Yeah, I guess you're right."

"So we stay the night. Let her get settled. We can always take off tomorrow."

Nodding again, he opened the bottle and took a sip. They were both finished with their drinks by the time the bathroom door opened a short while later. Gwen's face had the reddish tone of having been scrubbed, all traces of makeup removed, leaving her looking younger and refreshed. She walked out in a matching bright pink tank top and shorts set, vigorously towel drying her hair.

"Did you guys want a shower? The water pressure is actually pretty fantastic."

Sam felt a foot nudging at him, and so he decided to take the hint, "Uh, yeah, actually. Sure you don't mind?"

"Not at all!" Her grin was wide and happy, "There's a stack of towels on the sink. You're just gonna have to deal with the flowery soap and tropical shampoo. Although, judging from your hair, you're no stranger to conditioner, are you, Sam?"

Dean laughed heartily, "She's got you there, Sammy."

He sighed, shaking his head at the two of them and didn't say a word as he turned to head down the mini hall to the bathroom. Her eyes sparkled as she placed the towel on the back of the chair Sam had just vacated and went to the fridge to grab herself a beer.

"You want another one?"

"Sure," he answered, taking the cold bottle she offered, "You know, you're a pretty kick ass hunter. If it wasn't for that syringe, you totally had her."

She nodded, plopping into the chair across the table from him, "It's always nice to be appreciated. I may not have gotten to see much of your skills, but I imagine you guys can hold your own. After all, you got all that info from her and took her out when I couldn't."

"Hey, she cheated in my opinion. … Let's just hope she didn't tell any other witches about her new spells."

Gwen nodded as she took a long pull of the beer, "Are you thinking we should spread the word to our contacts? Just as a heads up in case Miranda decided to 'share the love' with her witchy friends?"

"Not a bad idea. … So, you know where you're headed next?"

She shook her head, "Nah, I'll have to see what I can find. I'm paid up here til the end of the month, anyways, so I've got time."

"You could always come with us. I definitely wouldn't mind having you watch my back."

"Is that so?" red lips curved into a smirk, "And how many girls has that worked on, Dean?"

He shrugged, "You're the first."

"Pretty confident I'll head out on the road with two strangers?"

Placing the bottle on the table, he shook his head, "Not at all. I've just never trusted someone outside the family."

That was something she wasn't quite sure what to make of and a pause lingered between the two, "Well then, I'm honored. … Not saying I'll go, but it was kind of you to ask."

"Well, I _am_ the kind one."

She snickered. That confidence he'd shown at the club hadn't wavered in the slightest. This was a guy that was used to picking up girls like others would pick up a gallon of milk; a guy that new he was gorgeous from all the play he'd gotten. It was easy to spot, since she'd often acted the same way when looking for a one night stand. Although, if she was actually going to consider hunting with them, she'd never sleep with either of them. You can't rely on someone to watch your back if they're thinking about being between your legs.

"And I'm sure Sam would back you up on that too."

"Of course he would." There was that dazzling smile. The kind that could make her go weak in the knees if she let it. Too bad for Dean that she had no intention of falling under his spell.

Dark eyes rolled, head shaking in a way that said she wasn't buying it, "So tell me … how do to two brothers get started in this business?"

He drew a breath, staring at the brown bottle in his hand. She could see him weighing his options and could only assume that it wasn't a story he told often. Just when she was about to say that he really didn't have to tell her, he began to speak, "We were raised as hunters."

If she'd been drinking at that moment, she would have done a spit take. As it was, her eyes widened in a sort of horror, mouth parting into an o. She was unable to speak for a few seconds, but finally found her voice again, "I … you what? What kind of person does that to their kids?"

"Our dad did the best he could. It was a difficult situation." And then he elaborated, sharing the full origin story of what had become the "family business." There were times she was visibly enraged, moments when tears filled her eyes as her heart broke for the young boys. As Dean spoke, his voice remained quiet. Most of the time, his eyes were directed anywhere but at her, as if they were focused on the memories he was sharing. When he was finished, she didn't know what to say.

"I'm so sorry, Dean."

A half smile tugged at his lips, "Like you said, we were all initiated into this one way or another."

"But to grow up in it? To not have the opportunity to just be a kid? … God, my family looks like the Cleavers in comparison."

He chuckled, "See, that's something I couldn't have done. I'm not a Leave It To Beaver guy."

She offered a wan smile. And then realized that the atmosphere between them was a little too intimate for her liking. Dean jumped when she suddenly rose to her feet, "I'm going to grab some linens for the couch."

Long legs carried her down the hall to the master bedroom, where she buried herself in the closet getting out the extra bedsheets, pillows, and blankets. Her focus was on regulating her breathing, cooling the warmth of intimacy from her heart. She never would have guessed that Dean would have opened up like that. And judging from the way he wouldn't look her in the eye as he'd spoken, it wasn't something he did very often. Why would he have trusted her? A girl he'd met only hours before... It didn't make any sense. Nor did the instant attraction she'd felt for him. It wasn't like seeing a guy in a bar that she wanted to take home with her. That was a purely lustful attraction, but this? This was different. She couldn't really put a finger on how, and that in and of itself was aggravating. Maybe it wouldn't be a good idea to hunt with him.

When she turned around, arms full of sheets and blankets, she saw Dean standing in her doorway watching her. She jumped with a gasp and everything fell from her hold. With an apologetic smile, he entered the room and bent to pick up the blanket, "Sorry about that. I didn't mean to startle you."

"I wasn't expecting you to be there." Hands snatched up the sheets and pillows, holding them close to her torso.

Green eyes watched her closely, picking up the drastic shift in attitude. What had been open and warm was now closed off and … almost embarrassed. She refused to meet his gaze as she rose to her feet and swept from the room without another word. Brows knit in confusion. How was he supposed to read this girl? … Maybe it was mistake to share so much of himself with her. Of course it was. Why had he ventured so far from his normal interactions? Dean had never before shared that much with a woman. But there was something about Gwen. He'd noticed it the first time he'd laid eyes on her. It wasn't that she'd been dancing. It was something in her eyes that even the dim lighting of the club couldn't hide. The terror he'd felt when she'd passed out was akin to what he'd only felt in times of danger for Sam or Dad. He couldn't deny that there was a connection there. But relying on that had clearly been a mistake. God, he'd asked her to come with them. How could he have done that? Why would he possibly think that she'd want to hunt with the two of them? Besides, they had more to worry about right now, like finding Dad. But, still … he hoped. He hoped that she would agree to come with them. That she would allow him to keep an eye on her … to keep her safe. The thought that she would disappear from his life, go back to hunting these evil creatures on her own, was horrifying. He felt a deep seated need to protect her. Where it had come from, he didn't know. He'd only just met this girl, but he was desperate to see that she remain safe. … Sam was going to kill him for inviting her along. How in the hell was he supposed to explain all of this to his brother when he didn't understand it himself?

What was he going to do if she decided she wanted to remain on her own?

By the time he wandered into the living room, his stomach was in knots. Knowing that he didn't want to push her away, he chose to keep his mouth closed until she spoke first. The sheets were folded neatly on the couch, pillows tossed to the other end. She still refused to look toward him when she said, "This couch is pretty comfy. I've fallen asleep in front of the TV before. Through that door is the second bedroom. It's already made up. You guys can flip for it."

She paused a moment, but then said in a rush, "I spent 8 hours on 4 inch stilettos and then got liquid hex bagged. I'm pretty beat, so I'm going to bed."

Her heart hammered as she stepped around him and back into the kitchen. As her foot touched the hall floor, she heard him speak softly, "Goodnight, Gwen."

Thank God he couldn't see her, because her cheeks instantly flamed pink and she rushed into her bedroom, door closing firmly behind her. Dean sighed, tossed the blanket on the couch, and went into the other bedroom. By the time Sam came out from the bathroom, he found a silent apartment, no sign of the other two, and a pile of linens stacked on the couch. Not bothering to confront his older brother about being relegated to the couch, he tossed the sheets out haphazardly and lay down, falling asleep almost instantly.


	6. Chapter 6

"What the hell, Dean?"

A tired palm ran down the length of his scalp, "She's a great hunter. I think she'd be a good match for us."

"Match for _us_ or match for _you_?"

"Come on, Sammy, that's not fair."

"But it's fair for you to invite her along without telling me? Dean, it's obvious you've got the hots for her. But we have way too much on the line to be distracted by a pair of legs."

"She is not just a pair of legs!" Green eyes hardened, jaw taught. Dean's reaction was more insulted and protective than defensive, "You saw her last night, she's an amazing hunter."

"Yes, I saw her last night. The same way you did. … On a pole."

"That is uncalled for." Fingers curled into fists, brows knitting in anger, "She only worked at that club because she was trying to save lives."

"And if you hadn't seen her in that club, we wouldn't be having this conversation now."

"That's bullshit."

Sam scowled, "No. What's bullshit is you taking it upon yourself to ask your latest conquest to hunt with us."

"She is _not_ a conquest!" His voice was a little too loud and it was a struggle to lower his tone, to keep his rage in check, "Gwen has been doing this job all on her own. And if it weren't for you and me, she would have died on that job last night. Is it so bad that I want her to watch our backs? That I want her to be safe?"

Blue eyes blinked. That was probably the last thing Sam expected to hear from his brother's mouth. But that didn't erase the validation of what he was saying, "Dean, we have to find Dad. … We have to find Jessica's killer. And this girl is going to distract us from that."

His head shook a denial, "No she won't, Sammy. … Trust me. She knows what's on the line."

Sam paused, "What the hell does that mean?"

"I mean she knows. She knows what happened to Mom, to Jess. She knows how long we've been hunting and why, and that we're searching for Dad. She knows how important it is."

"What the _fuck_, Dean?!" Sam exploded. He had never been this infuriated with his brother before, "What else did you tell her?! Or should I say, what's left for you to tell her?! Who gave you the right to tell -"

Dean raised a hand to cut off his younger brother, "You don't think I understand exactly what you're feeling? … I've never told _anyone_ what I told her."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?!"

"Sammy ..." he sat heavily on the bed, rubbing his head with his palms, "I don't know, ok? … I don't understand this. But from the second I saw Sondra holding a knife on her … I just had this gut reaction. I _need_ to keep her safe. I can't explain it. The thought of her going back out there on her own … it almost gives me a panic attack. If it weren't for you … Miranda would have killed us both. I saw her lying there on the ground and … the world stopped."

Sam slowly sat down next to him, a mix of confusion and amazement on his face. He didn't speak, just let Dean continue, "Everything just stopped, man. I was terrified in a way that … I've only ever been when you or Dad have gotten hurt. I couldn't walk away. I couldn't fight. … You were the one that got Miranda to talk, to give up the antidote. You were the one that killed her."

Dean looked over at him, a shimmer in his eyes. Sam knew that he was fighting tears, and was almost afraid. He'd never seen his brother react this way over a girl. There was something going on here; something that was either completely evil, like a love spell, or something that just might be miraculous. Dean drew a breath and didn't break eye contact as he spoke with sincerity, "Thank you. … You saved her when I couldn't. … This isn't about getting between her legs, Sammy. I _have_ to protect her."

"Dean … something isn't right here. … How do we know that she's not a witch herself?"

"What?"

"This … this isn't you, Dean. You're acting like you're under a spell."

"All the better reason to keep her around, right? … If she is a witch we're going to have to stop her."

Sam shook his head. And though he knew it just might push him in the wrong direction, Dean had to try one last time, "Please, Sammy. … Yeah, this scares the hell out of me. I've never felt like this about anyone. But what scares me more is the thought of her going out on her own with no one to watch out for her."

Sam paused. Maybe this wasn't a spell. After all, this was how most men felt about the women they loved. It was certainly how he'd felt about Jess. But for Dean to feel like this in a matter of hours? To not even understand _himself_ where it was coming from? … Still, this could be good for Dean. Sam had never liked how he kept everything to himself, how he avoided any true intimacy with women. Sam believed in soul mates. What if Gwen was Dean's? What if the only way that Dean would allow her into his world was to feel an immediate connection? If there was a God, and Sam believed there was, perhaps He was orchestrating this in order to give Dean some happiness. With all the evil they had seen and endured over the years, there had to be good to balance it. And if anyone deserved some good in his life, it was Dean.

Sam nodded, "Ok, Dean. I get it. If she agrees, it's fine with me."

Dean breathed a sigh of relief. Now he just had to make sure she agreed to come with them. It was hard enough convincing Sam. But if Gwen was as hard headed as she'd made it seem last night, she may be even more difficult. If only he could figure out a good rebuttal should she refuse.

Just then, her voice called from the kitchen, "You guys want to go get some breakfast? My treat!"

Dean looked over at Sam, and spoke with the deepest intensity he could, "Do not breathe a word of this to her."

Sam nodded, "I promise."


	7. Chapter 7

They had driven to the diner in the Impala. Gwen wouldn't admit it, but she had fallen in love with the car the second she'd seen it. She was more excited about riding in it than she had been about anything else in a long time. She gave Dean directions to her favorite little diner and lead them inside. They settled into a booth, both brothers on one side facing her.

"Trust me, you guys are going to love this place. I come here almost every morning." There was a smile on her face that hadn't been seen in years. She felt peaceful, safe. She felt happy. It was a feeling she had been missing for such a long time. But being around these two just seemed to bring out the old Gwen. That girl who loved life, drew friends to her with a charming personality, and found simple enjoyment in almost everything.

An older waitress came over, red hair in tight curls that were pinned up out of her face. She greeted the trio with a huge smile, doughy arms open in a welcoming gesture, "Well, would you look at this."

Gwen looked up at the freckled woman with a warm grin, "Hey, Deb!"

"Who are these two?" Sea green eyes sparkled at the brunette.

"Friends. This is Sam and Dean." She gestured to each as she said the names, "Deb here is the best damn waitress in the state."

Deb chuckled, "I keep telling you you've got to stop saying that. You haven't been everywhere in this state."

"I don't have to," Gwen smiled, "I know perfection when I see it."

The woman shook her head and passed out menus, "You boys be good to this sweetheart, you hear me? She never fails to brighten my day."

"Yes ma'am." Dean grinned, green eyes crinkling.

"Can I get you some coffee while you look over the menus?"

The all nodded in assent, and Deb left the table. They made small chit chat while taking a look at what the diner had to offer. By the time the waitress had returned, they had all made their decisions. She placed the coffee cups in front of each of them, a little carafe of cream set in the center of the table. Pulling out a little pad, Deb asked that famous waitress question, "What can I get ya?"

Sam ordered an egg white veggie omelet, Dean a "bellybuster" of scrambled eggs, sausage, bacon, and toast. Gwen requested her usual.

"You got it, doll." Deb winked at the younger woman and headed off to the kitchen.

"What's your usual?" Sam asked as he prepared his coffee.

"Belgian waffle … I have a bit of sweet tooth." To prove this, she poured sugar into her cup, stirring to get it all melted before adding cream, "It comes in handy too. You wouldn't believe how easily some men will give up information when you've got a lollipop between your teeth."

The corners of Dean's mouth pulled down for a second as he nodded, "I believe it."

Gwen's mouth curved into a half smirk, "Oh, I bet you do."

Sam cleared his throat, "So, Gwen, Dean told me that he invited you to join us last night."

She nodded, "I told him I'd think about it."

"Well, just to add my two cents, I think it's a good idea." Sam lifted the cup to his mouth, taking a sip of some pretty amazing diner coffee.

"I just want to get one thing straight first." She looked each of them in the eye as she sat up a little straighter and clasped her hands together, "I'm not fucking either one of you."

Sam coughed violently, the coffee sloshing over the sides of the ceramic cup. He quickly placed it back on the table and grabbed at some napkins, "What?"

Gwen snickered at Sam's reaction, "Hey, I was just making sure that you two understood. If I'm going to be relying on you guys to watch my back, I'd rather not have you thinking about being between my legs."

Dean hadn't spoken, and all he could do at this juncture was blink. How the hell were they supposed to react to that?

"I don't think you have to worry about that." Sam mopped at the coffee, then used a fresh napkin to wipe his mouth.

"Good. It's been a long time since I've had anyone looking out for me. And I got a little in over my head last night. I'm not stupid enough to let my ego get in the way. If it weren't for you guys I'd be dead now. That's a pretty good reason to think I'll be able to rely on you."

Dean nodded, then drank from his mug purely to avoid having to think of something to say.

"Although I do think I should know your names."

"Uh … I'm Sam?"

"Winchester," Dean replied, knowing what it was she meant, "What about you?"

"Gwendolyn Isolde Lovet. … My mom was a bit of a medieval nut."

"Sounds like it," Dean chuckled.

"In fact, when I was in third grade, there was this kid named Arthur in my class. She spent the _whole year_ trying to get me to invite him over for play dates. She even went so far as to contact his parents and invite the family over for dinner. … To this day I'm positive that she wanted me to marry him."

The brothers laughed. Sam shook his head, "So what happened?"

"Are you kidding? I was 8. I still thought boys had cooties." She snickered, "His family moved away at the end of the year. My mom almost cried. She then decided that Arthur was all wrong for me because I wasn't a Guinevere, I was a Gwendolyn. And then she had her heart set on me finding someone who's middle name was Tristan."

"Why Tristan?" Dean looked confused.

"Seriously? Tristan and Isolde? … Nothing?"

He shrugged his shoulders and shook his head. Gwen couldn't help but laugh as she turned to the taller brother, "I'm guessing you're the book smart one, Sammy."

"Let me stop you right there," Sam raised a finger, "I'm going to tell you the same thing I told him. … Sammy is a ten year old that eats mud pies. It's Sam."

At that she cackled loudly, so into her laughter that her hands clapped together, whole body shaking, "You're Sammy!"

Tears pricked the corners of her eyes and Dean grinned, "I am gonna like having her around."

Sam sighed, "Come on ..."

She wiped at her eyes, still giggling, "Oh no, that's it. There's no stopping it now. You will forever be Sammy to me."

He rolled his eyes, "Just what I need. Another brother."

Gwen grinned, sipping her coffee to cover up the smile. But there was no hiding the gleam in those brown eyes. Sam shook his head, going back to his mug with a sour expression. Dean couldn't wipe the smirk from his face.

Deb showed up then, a tray of food in her arms. She placed the plates in front of them, "Here you go, guys."

"That was fast," Dean commented

"I told you I love this place."

Deb put the jug of warmed maple syrup next to Gwen, "Anything else I can do for you?"

"I think we're all set for now," Gwen answered, looking up at the older woman with love.

"You just holler if you need me." A gentle touch on Gwen's shoulder, and she was gone.

There was a few moments of quiet as they sampled their meals. The guys agreed that the food was amazing.

"So," Sam swallowed the bite in his mouth, "Dean told me that he told you our story last night. … You mind sharing yours?"

"I guess it's only fair..."

"Yeah, let's hear about the Cleavers." Dean grinned, ignoring Sam's look of confusion.

She took a bite of waffle and a sip of coffee, then started to speak, "To really understand, I'll have to go back quite a few years. … I actually had a great childhood. Being an only child, my parents doted on me. My dad was a retired military man, so he tended to be a little more strict than Mom. But, still, he was just a giant teddy bear with me. … Then I hit puberty. I rebelled; started hanging out with a pretty bad crowd. Smoking weed, breaking curfew, getting drunk, eventually sleeping around and sneaking out in the middle of the night. I began picking fights with my parents to justify my behavior. Figured that if I made a 'horrible home life' then my rebelling was because of them. So if they were against it, I was going to do it. To be honest, I'm shocked that they didn't freak out more. I was pretty wild. I kept expecting my dad to threaten boarding school or for one of them to come up with crazy punishments, but they never did. Every fight I started ended with them telling me how much they loved me. Which only infuriated me more. I acted out and treated them horribly. I don't know how far it would have gone, if ..."

She trailed off, tears filling her eyes, "I was the worst at 17. Just after my senior graduation, I told my parents that I was moving in with my boyfriend the second I turned 18. They hated him because he was 10 years older than me and even though I was only dating him to piss them off, I was desperate to get away from them. … I don't know why I hated them so much. They had been nothing but good to me, and I despised them for it."

The tears spilled over and she drew a shaky breath, "One night, I went over to my boyfriend's house. I'd just had a huge fight with my folks and I needed to get out for a little while. Evan wanted sex, but I just wasn't in the mood. I told him I wasn't feeling it, but he just kept pushing. I shoved him away from me and went to leave, but he wouldn't hear of it. He grabbed my arm and started talking through his teeth, like he was trying to get control of himself … or threaten me, I don't really know. The more upset he got, the more angry and scared I was. Finally, I slapped him … to make my point, you know? And … he punched me. Square across the face. I saw stars. And before I could get my bearings, he was on top of me, pulling open the fly of my jeans and starting to tug them downward. His other hand was grabbing at my hands to pin them above my head. His mouth crushed mine and he made this _awful_ sort of gleeful sound and I just panicked. Kneed him in the crotch and managed to get out of there. By the time I made it home, the entire left side of my face was one huge bruise. My dad flipped. More than he ever had whenever I'd instigated him. He just took off…

"I found out later that he beat the shit out of Evan and brought him to the police station on statutory rape, assault, and attempted rape charges. I had to go down and make a statement. But Evan didn't deny anything. I think he was too scared of my dad. As far as I know, he's still in jail. … That was the turning point for me, though. It finally clicked how stupid I was being. I spent a week apologizing for everything, but all it took was that one night of realization and the previous three years no longer existed for them. It was forgotten, and we were a family again."

She paused for a moment, wiping her face with her fingers, "Then I turned 18. My whole family went out for this huge celebratory dinner. My folks and me, my dad's sister and her husband, their three kids, and my mom's best friend who had basically been my aunt my whole life. It was such a great night. Sort of a reunion with everyone after all the trouble I'd caused. My cousins were going to the movies after dinner, so we were driving my Aunt Dana and Uncle George home. My other aunt, Aya Jin, lived in the same direction, so she was following behind us. … We turned a corner, and there was this little girl in the middle of the road. My dad slammed on the breaks, barely stopping in time. I can still remember the look on her face. This hatred and wrath and disgust … And then her eyes turned completely white. She waved her hand and the car just flew off the road, flipping a few times before coming to a stop on the roof. Everyone was bleeding, moaning from the pain … I felt this wetness on my scalp.

"One second I was between my aunt and uncle, hanging upside down, then I blinked and and I was standing next to Aya by her car. I have no idea what happened or how. But that's when the car exploded. Aya Jin had to hold me back from running to get them out. She knew what I didn't – they were already gone. I can still hear the screams from the crash some nights. Feel the heat from the explosion, that ringing in my ears. The smell … it's something I'll never forget. … By the time the cops came, we realized that little girl had vanished and I didn't have a scratch on me. Not a drop of blood anywhere. So we lied. Said I was in the second car with Aya, that we hadn't seen what happened. I tried to tell my cousins the truth, but they just thought I was crazy. They hated me for surviving. … I left a month later. Added my aunt to all my accounts, everything I owned. So she's been taking care of it all at home. Sold the house and almost everything in it. Packed up the rest. That's how I fund all of this. … Anyways, I met this older hunter, Simon Gendry, shortly after I left. Spent a year teaching me everything he knew. He said I had 'natural talent' and picked it all up faster than anyone he'd seen. Eventually I realized that he had no intention of going after this upper level demon with me, so I took off. I've been on my own ever since."


	8. Chapter 8

Deb paused behind the counter, watching the table of three curiously. What on earth could Gwen be talking about? The waitress had never seen her so emotional before. First was the joy that had just radiated off of her, now she was wiping at her face. The range of emotion was something that Deb hadn't seen from the younger woman.

It had to be because of one of those guys with her. It just had to. What other explanation could there be? Deb watched as the lighter haired one – Dean, was it? - reached across the table and gently placed his hand on Gwen's arm. Whatever he said put a wobbly smile on the girl's face. The other began talking with his hands, and Gwen nodded, wiping at her face with her other hand. She began to reply, and that was when Deb noticed one of her tables flagging her. As much as she wanted to check in with Gwen, she knew she had to get back to work.

It was a few minutes before the woman got a chance to glace back their way. The men were still sitting at the table, but Gwen had disappeared. Where had that girl gone to?

Turning around answered the question for Deb. Gwen was standing right behind her. She jumped a bit, not having expected the younger woman, "Oh, dear! There you are. … Are you alright, Gwen?"

She smiled, nodding her head, "I'm fine. … I was just telling the guys a little bit about where I come from … It's hard to talk about, you know?"

Deb nodded sympathetically. Gwen's expression changed, looking more sad, "I just … I wanted to let you know that I was going to be leaving town soon."

"But you just got here! Why are you moving already?"

She half smiled, "It's my job, actually. It involves a lot of travel."

Deb frowned, green eyes filling with tears, "I wish you didn't have to leave."

"Me too." Gwen wrapped her arms around the older woman, squeezing her tightly, "I am going to miss you so much."

"Not as much as I'll miss you," Deb replied, hugging her close.

"I just want you to know that you are the first person to take interest in me when I was just a stranger. I've been doing this job for five years now … You just added so much brightness to my life."

"Oh, honey." Deb stepped back to look the younger woman in the eye, "Every day you walked into this diner was a good day for me."

"Don't go making me cry again," Gwen admonished.

The tears spilled from her green eyes, hands fussing at her face, "Oh, look at me. I'll be a wreck for the rest of my shift."

Pale hand rubbed the older woman's arm, "I know that you've been struggling lately. I … I just didn't want to leave you in trouble."

"I'm not in trouble, Gwen, dear. I just feel so badly for Mr. Whiskers. Without his medication -"

Gwen smiled reassuringly, "Mr. Whiskers is going to be fine. I promise. That cat can take anything."

Deb hugged her again, "You be good, you hear me?"

"Only if you promise not to work so hard,"

She chuckled, "You got it, honey."

Gwen squeezed her one last time, "I have to go."

Red curls bobbed as she nodded. Gwen stepped away, walking outside. Deb watched through the window as she climbed into a black car, the two boys in the front. She turned to look through the rear window as the car drove away and they each waved at the other.

Dabbing at her eyes, Deb went to clear the table where they had been sitting. As she piled the plates, Gwen's was the last she picked up. Underneath was a note written on a napkin, "Thank you for being there for me these past few weeks. You made my life so much better, and I am so thankful to have known you. Take care of Mr. Whiskers, and take care of yourself. You deserve a break, Deb. - Gwen."

Her lips pulled into a small smile, fingers lifting the napkin. As she went to tuck it into her pocket, she saw 5 one hundred dollar bills fanned out on the table. Green eyes widened, a hand flying to her mouth, "Oh … what have you done, girl?"

Deb looked up and through the window, but the car was gone. She had no way of thanking the sweet girl who had become like a daughter to her. Tears poured down weathered cheeks. Thick fingers gently lifted the bills. So this is what she'd meant...

The waitress turned away from the table and marched up to the diner manager, "I'm taking my first vacation in twenty years. Starting now."

It's what Gwen would have wanted.


	9. Chapter 9

When they returned to Gwen's apartment, she flicked on the television while Sam commandeered her lap top. He began checking the local news sites for case-worthy articles. Dean stretched out on the sofa, legs splayed on cushions, hands tucked behind his head. A daytime soap began as Gwen wandered into the kitchen and turned on the coffee pot, deciding she hadn't had enough at the diner.

They hung around the apartment for the next few hours, taking turns with the lap top and newspapers Dean had stepped out for at one point. He was just about to bring up the fact that they should make some kind of lunch plans when "Cherry Pie" began to play from Gwen's pocket. Dean couldn't hide his smirk as she pulled out a cell phone. Gwen pointed at him with a serious expression, "Shut up."

She flipped the phone open, "Lovet. … Amy? … Wait, slow down. What are you talking about?"

Dark brows knit together, "Are you sure? … Well, I'm about three states away. It's going to take me some time to get there. … Are you going to be ok? … Ok. I'm coming. Just wait for me."

The phone snapped closed and she turned to the brothers, "Looks like we've got a case. … That is, if you're willing to come with me."

"What's going on?" Dean leaned forward in his chair.

"Amy Lillie. A girl I saved from a werewolf about a year ago. She seems to think that her boyfriend was bitten."

"Is she sure?" asked Sam.

"Sure enough that she's completely freaked out. Says that there have been some deaths in town, all around the full moon. Apparently, he's never with her when the deaths are happening. He's not with anyone, and can never give an alibi for his whereabouts."

"Sounds like our kind of thing," Dean stood to his feet.

Sam nodded, "Why don't you pack? We'll go grab our stuff from the motel."

They left quickly, and she disappeared into her bedroom. By the time she was putting her bags into the trunk of her car, the Impala was pulling back into the driveway. Dean rolled down his window and leaned out, "You just want us to follow you?"

"I can't think of another way for us to all get there, do you?"

"We could just drive together," he shrugged.

She arched a brow, "I don't want to have to drive back across three states just to pick up a car. If you're worried about getting separated, why don't one of you ride with me? I'm sure you two have each other on speed dial."

"Yeah, alright." Dean looked over at Sam, "That cool with you?"

"No problem."

"Sam, why don't you come with me? I have a feeling Dean is a little attached to that car, considering I haven't seen him allow you to drive it."

Sam laughed and opened the door, "You're pretty intuitive."

"Ha ha ha." Dean rolled his eyes, "Can we get going, please?"

She closed the trunk and moved to the passenger side, tossing the keys to Sam as he came around the Impala, "I could use a break from driving anyways."

Sam caught the keys, rattling them with a smirk at Dean, who merely rolled his eyes again in response. Getting in the driver's seat, Sam began adjusting the seat to suit his height.

"I just have one rule, Sammy." Gwen pulled on her seat belt. When he looked at her to continue, she said, "Driver picks the tunes."

He laughed, shaking his head. Confused by the response, she lifted a brow, "Why is that funny?"

"You're just … a lot like Dean."

"Hmmm … not sure if that's a compliment or not."

He chuckled, starting the Intrepid, "Neither am I."

As they pulled out of the driveway, Impala close behind, Sam adjusted the radio's dials until he found a station he liked, "It'll be nice to get a break from my brother. Don't get me wrong, I love him. But doing this … we spend all our time together."

"I can imagine. … Still, it's gotta be better than hunting for five years on your own."

He nodded and she gave him directions to the highway they needed. As he turned onto the on ramp, she relaxed against the seat, "This has got to be strange for you."

"What's that?" he asked while merging onto the highway.

"Just some random girl joining the 'family business.'"

"To be honest, I'm still shocked that Dean suggested it. … It's not something I would expect out of him."

"Why's that?"

"Well … Let's just say that Dean's interactions with women tend to be … very formulaic."

She nodded with a smirk, "The one night stand variety."

"What makes you say that?"

"Oh, please. You think I can't spot a player?" She chuckled, "Though, I suppose if I were pressed to say it, I'd have to admit that my interactions with men tend to be 'very formulaic.' … Kind of makes it easy to spot in other people what you know to be true about yourself."

Sam paused, "Ok, let me ask you something … If the situation were reversed, would you have done the same thing?"

"I'm not following."

"Let's say you stumbled onto one of our gigs. Dean gets hurt, but we're able to save him. Would you have invited us to hunt with you?"

"Are you crazy? … No chance in hell."

"Really. Knowing what you know, having been hunting alone all these years..."

"There is no way working together would have even crossed my mind. It just wouldn't have occurred to me."

Sam slowly nodded, "And that's the normal reaction, I think. … You run into another hunter, maybe team up for a case, then go your separate ways."

"So what's the deal with your brother?"

He swallowed, pausing to buy time. There was no way he could tell her about Dean's pressing need to ensure her safety, "Dean's … well he's just not like most hunters."

"I don't think either of you are. Can't say I've heard of anyone growing up in this world."

"True." Internally, he was breathing a sigh of relief.

"So tell me, Sammy. Do you think I made a mistake?"

Blue eyes tightened thoughtfully, "No. … I think that it was important that you work with us."

"Really?" she sounded surprised, "What makes you think that?"

"This whole situation … It's a little weird, right? We've known each other not even 24 hours, and here I am, driving your car, having a conversation like we've known each other forever. … I don't know how to explain it … There's like this … instant bond between you and us."

"And now you're making me reconsider my decision."

When he looked over at her, he could see from her expression that she was joking.

"I'd be lying if I said I didn't feel it. And it kind of freaks me out. … I didn't even get close to Simon this fast."

"We've never worked with a woman for the long term. But it almost feels like we've been missing out on it."

"And that has nothing to do with my dance skills?" Brown eyes gleamed with teasing.

He laughed, "That's … Strip clubs are just not my thing."

"But they're Dean's."

"I'm pretty sure he'd want me to lie right now."

That had her chuckling, "Sammy … I gave him a lap dance. Trust me. I know that strip clubs are Dean's kind of thing."

"Ugh … can we not talk about my brother getting a lap dance?"

She burst out laughing, "Don't tell me you're a prude."

"I'm not! Not at all. … But he's my brother. I'd just rather not think about that."

She snickered, "Whatever you want, Sammy."

"I'd love it if you not call me Sammy."

"Oh no. Sammy is sticking around. I already told you that."

He shook his head, "I swear, you are so much like Dean. And then sometimes like me. … Maybe that's why you fit in with us already."

"Maybe … It is really strange, though." she adjusted in the seat, shifting sideways a bit, "I just … feel safe around you guys. Probably because you saved my life within hours of meeting me."

"Well you know what they say about life or death situations … they tend to form bonds. Though, it's usually used as a romantic bond in movies."

"Don't make me repeat myself. … I'm not fucking either one of you."

"That's … that's not … I didn't mean -"

She grinned, "Is it always this easy to get a rise out of you?"

He shook his head slowly, "You are going to make life really interesting."

"Now that I'll take as a compliment."


	10. Chapter 10

The sun had already set by the time they arrived in Murphy, North Carolina. Gwen's mood had grown more and more jittery the later it had gotten. Amy had nearly lost her life last time. That werewolf had pounced on her as she'd made her way home from her (then) boyfriend's house. If Gwen hadn't been in the right place at the right time, she could have been bitten, or worse.

She had Sam pull over once they crossed the town line. Dean slowed the Impala to a park behind them and stepped out. Gwen looked across the Intrepid at him.

"I really wanted to get here sooner." Her expression was sour

Dean held up his hands, "Take it up with college boy. I followed you guys."

Her brows furrowed before she shook her head, "I wasn't blaming -"

She sighed, "I'd wanted to meet up with Amy before starting this hunt. But I'm not about to go play 20 questions while there is a monster on the loose in this town … again."

Sam nodded, "I doubt there's anyone still at the police station who's working on the case. We can't even check bodies to make sure this is really a werewolf."

"Sure we can," Dean grinned.

Sam frowned, "We're not breaking into the morgue."

"Sammy -"

Gwen cut him off, "It will take too long. I'm not losing anyone tonight." Her eyes flashed, jawline set hard.

Both guys knew better than to push further. Dean crossed his arms, looking to Gwen, "So what's the plan?"

She paused, taking a breath and thinking a moment, "We stick together. And search the woods and neighboring streets until we find the thing or the sun comes up, whichever comes first."

They loaded up with silver bullets and set out on their search. It was setting up to be a very long night.


	11. Chapter 11

At sunup they found a roadside motel and checked in for a few hours' sleep. They were all disappointed after a long night of nothing. No wild animals, no monsters. Just no sleep and cold air and way too much coffee. All three were feeling more refreshed and ready to face the day after sleep and a quick breakfast. They took separate cars to Amy's house, Sam still riding in the Intrepid. He and Gwen were laughing as they stepped out of the car parked on a rural street.

"Looks like you two enjoyed yourselves." Dean commented as he climbed from the Impala.

They glanced at each other and just began laughing harder. Dean shook his head, "So where's Amy?"

All signs of levity dropped from her face as Gwen turned to look up at the sprawling house. She looked from one brother to the other, and then headed for the front door, "Up here."

They walked up the cement steps and crossed a small lawn, stopping on a porch that was in dire need of a repaint. Gwen rapped on the door, and smiled when it was opened a minute later, "Amy!"

"Gwen!" The girl was short and blonde, with petite features. The girls embraced and Gwen gestured to the two behind her.

"This is Sam and Dean Winchester. They're friends of mine."

"And … they know? … What you do, I mean." Amy looked up at them questioningly

"We're working with her," Sam answered.

"They're good guys," she said reassuringly. "Do you mind if we come in?"

"Of course," Amy stepped aside, and welcomed them in.

After they were situated in the living room, Dean spoke, "So … you think your boyfriend's a werewolf?"

Amy nodded, "I'm sure of it."

Gwen's voice was soft, "I know that what happened last year scared you..."

"It's not that. … I just _know_." Amy sighed, nervously picking at a cuticle. "It's been going on three months now. When the first guy died … Well the papers called it an animal attack. I wanted to believe it. I couldn't bear to think that I would encounter another wolf. Then the second month came. Four people died in three days. I started to get scared. I told Paul that we should leave town, but he refused. And then last night someone else died."

"Well, it sounds like a werewolf," Sam looked to Gwen.

She nodded, leaning forward to gently take Amy's hand, "Why do you think it's Paul?"

"He disappears at night. I ask him about it, and he pretends he doesn't know what I'm talking about."

"And it's only around the full moon?" Dean asked.

Amy shook her head, "No, he's been doing it a few times a week. … But I think that's just as an alibi or something. … To make it look like it's not just at the full moon?"

Gwen exchanged a glance with the brothers, "Amy, it's possible that this could be someone else. Some people who have been bitten, well they don't even know what happens to them once a month. Maybe Paul got a second job?"

The blonde shook her head again, emphatically, "No." Her voice wobbled, "I know it's him."

As tears spilled from blue eyes, Gwen rose to her feet and moved over to the guys, who stood to join her, "Why don't you two go down to the morgue, find out what you can about the latest bodies. I'll stay with Amy and see if she can give any more concrete evidence."

Displeasure shone in green eyes, "And what if it is her boyfriend? What if Paul comes back while you're still here?"

"He's at work, and will be until later this afternoon." She brushed off the question, but noticed that her answer did not seem to satisfy him, "We can't waste time here. We've only got one night to take care of this, since last night was a bust."

Sam nodded, "Agreed. Come on, Dean."

Strong jaw tightened, lips pinched firmly together. He knew he couldn't press without seeming too overprotective. "Call us the second you find out anything."

"Same to you guys," She turned away quickly, fighting to stop the flush in her cheeks. It was the damnedest thing, that something so small as a muscle flex in his jawline could throw her stomach into knots. Attraction gnawed at her gut, filling her mind with distracting thoughts. How was she going to continue working with them if Dean's displeasure turned her on?

"_Just ignore it_," she thought to herself. "_You've got a job to do. Now get your shit together and fucking do it!_"

As the Winchesters left the room, she settled herself back down in the seat closest to Amy, "The guys are going to go find us some answers, ok? While they're doing that, why don't we talk a little more."

The girl nodded shakily, taking Gwen's hand again. When blue eyes sought brown ones for assurance, they found warmth and sincerity, "I'm not going to let anyone hurt you, Amy. I promise."


	12. Chapter 12

She met them back at the motel a little before noon, parking next to the Impala once she'd pulled into the lot. After knocking on the door, they ushered her in.

"Missing hearts?" was her way of greeting.

Dean nodded, "Definitely a werewolf attack. There were four bodies from the past two nights. She able to tell you anything else?"

Why did he have to look so damned good in that uniform? She didn't notice she was biting the corner of her lip until she went to speak, "Nothing solid. She's just convinced that it's Paul."

"So what do we do?" Sam asked, making Gwen thankful she could look elsewhere.

"I don't know about you guys, but I'm starved. Why don't we eat first, and then we can go talk to Paul. I'll get changed and we can ride together."

"You ever see three cops partnered together?" Dean sounded doubtful.

"That's why I'll be wearing my animal control uniform." Gwen glanced in his direction before forcing her eyes to Sam's safer form. Why was it so hard to even look at Dean? She swallowed, trying to shove the image of Officer Dean from her mind's eye.

"Not too bad," Sam nodded twice. "It's reasonable enough for us to be working together."

"You guys wait here. I'll be right back." Gwen left their room and made a quick stop at her car before heading into her own room to change. Once she had, she met them by the Impala. "We ready?"

Dean nodded and slid into the driver's seat, Sam climbing in beside him. Gwen settled herself in the back and they headed for the burger joint they had spotted earlier. They ate quickly and were back in the car within forty-five minutes. Gwen proceeded to give Dean the directions to the car dealership where Paul was a mechanic. It wasn't a long drive, though certainly not a short one either. When they arrived, Gwen lead the way inside and up to the receptionist.

"Good afternoon," she smiled. "We need to speak with a Paul Hachey?"

The woman nodded and picked up the phone, dialing three numbers before speaking quietly into the headset. After hanging up, she looked up at the three of them, "He'll be up in just one moment."

Five minutes later, a young man with sandy blonde hair and soft brown eyes walked into the front room, wiping his hands with a stained cloth, "I'm Paul Hachey. What's this about?"

"Mr. Hachey," Sam held out a hand, "I'm Officer Plant. This is my partner, Officer Page, and that's Animal Control Officer Harris. We just had a few questions for you."

"Questions?" Paul's brows pulled together as he shook their hands, "About what?"

"The recent animal attacks." Gwen answered.

"Animal attacks?" He echoed, "What could I possibly know about the animal attacks?"

"We've just been working our way through the local areas, trying to see if maybe someone has seen something without realizing what they've seen." Dean's smile was pleasant.

"I don't know what I could have seen. There haven't been any animals around here. At least not any that could really hurt somebody."

"What animals _have_ you seen?" Gwen pulled out a mini notepad and opened to a fresh page, pen hovering above it so she could write the second he spoke. Most people liked to feel as though what they had to say were important, so she always acted as though the people she interviewed would have all the answers she needed.

He shook his head, "Just pets. House cats, dogs."

"What kind of dogs?" Sam queried.

"I dunno, man. Just dogs."

"What about at home?" Dean asked, "Have you seen anything in your neighborhood?"

Paul scratched below his chin while he thought, "Nah. Nobody on my street has any pets."

"Well, these attacks started a few months ago. Can you think back for me?" Gwen's voice was sweet and almost flirty, "Anything you might have seen or heard in the past … let's say 6 months."

He paused then, eyes staring into the distance as his mind went back in time. He was shaking his head, about to deny any knowledge when he snorted out a laugh, "The only vicious animals I've seen was in a nightmare. You know, I could have sworn it was real when it was happening, but when I woke up there weren't any marks on me. So unless you're saying my dreams come to life, I don't think I can help you."

The three exchanged a glance before Dean cleared his throat, "Thank you for your time, Mr. Hachey."

"Not a problem," Paul smiled and shook hands with each of them before heading back the way he had come.

They walked outside, expressions serious. Pausing next to the Impala, Gwen sighed, "So Amy was right."

"Not necessarily." Sam replied.

"Aw, come on, Sammy. You really think that dream was just a dream?" Dean frowned.

"It could have been." At their huffs of derision, he pressed on, "You said Amy was attacked last year. She could have told Paul what happened. Her story could have sparked his imagination."

"Highly unlikely." Gwen rubbed a hand over the back of her neck, "But still possible, I guess."

"So what now?" Dean asked.

"Interview the neighbors? Somebody might have seen something." She crossed her arms loosely in front of her while leaning against the car.

Sam nodded, "Sounds like a plan to me."

They returned to their previous seats and Dean started the vehicle, revving the engine slightly before pulling out of the lot. Back to Murphy, the home to two werewolves in the span of a year.


	13. Chapter 13

This was proving to be a tough gig. No one had any additional information for them. They'd even widened the area for their interviews, but it hadn't helped. No one had seen anything, or heard anything remotely like a wild animal in the surrounding streets of Amy's home. Dean drove them back to the motel just before sunset and the three of them made their way into the Winchesters' room.

"So what now?" Dean dropped heavily onto one of the beds.

Gwen paced back and forth, apprehensively biting at her thumbnail. She dropped her hand when she stopped in the dead center of the room, "We split up. Someone's got to follow Paul, since he's our best lead at the moment. But we should be on the lookout for another possibility."

Dean started unbuttoning his shirt, "We'll change, then we can head out."

"Sounds good. Why don't you two see what you can find. I'll go track down the boyfriend." She tossed a thumb at the door, taking a step backwards.

"No, you're not." Dean stopped her with a cold stare, his face like carved marble.

Two brows raised, "Excuse me?"

"Dean..." Sam stopped when his brother pointed at him sharply. This was the downfall of having two stubborn jackasses with anger issues for partners.

"You're not going out there, alone, to follow someone who might be a werewolf."

"And just who is going to stop me?"

Fury radiated off the both of them in waves, the change in the air palpable. Sam looked helplessly from one to the other, unsure of how to stop this. Gwen's fingers curled into fists by her sides, nearly shaking from the tightness of grip.

"I have done this job for 5 years by myself. In fact, I killed a werewolf, _alone_, in this same town last year. So if you think that I need the big, bad Winchesters to protect me like some china doll, you have got another think coming. I'm not the one that asked to be working with you bastards. _You_ asked _me_ to watch your backs."

The whole time, Dean had been breathing steadily. Something that Sam knew he did to keep himself calm. And knowing what Dean had admitted to him that morning, this had to be painful to hear.

"You're right. I did. But here's the thing: I know that Sam can take care of himself. I've seen him hunt. The last hunt I saw you on, you just about got yourself killed. So maybe I'm just not that confident in your skills."

He saw the snap in her. That millisecond abandonment of all reason. And just as she launched herself, Sam snatched her around the torso, holding her back. She fought with everything she had, to the the point where he had to lift her off the ground to break her purchase. Even with the height difference, she was so much stronger than she looked that Sam struggled to keep his grip on her.

"You wanna see my skills?!" she shrieked. "I'll fucking kill you! You won't be questioning my abilities when you're dead!"

She moved like a wildcat, kicking and swiping. Sam awkwardly side stepped until he could put her down in the bathroom. Though she pushed and strained to get past him, he held her back long enough to say, "Gwen! Get your breath, calm down, and let me talk to my brother for a second, ok?"

He shoved her back long enough to slam the door closed, and held it tightly. But she didn't attempt to open the door. She just gave one solid kick that splintered the bottom panel and went silent. Sam looked pointedly at Dean, "What. The. Hell."

"She is not going out there by herself." He growled out the words, then raised his voice to be sure it would carry into the bathroom. "I'll tie her to the bed if I have to!"

Sam looked to the door anxiously, but when there was no sound, blue eyes narrowed at his brother. "Have you lost your mind?"

"I don't care."

"You don't care if she hates you?" he stepped away from the door, moving closer to Dean and lowering his voice. "You don't care about pissing her off so much that she leaves?"

There was a flash of panic and Dean's breathing became erratic, "She can't … she can't leave, Sammy. … Oh God … What am I doing?"

He sat heavily on the end of a bed, eyes wide in fear and staring at the floor. Sam sat next to him and placed a hand on his shoulder, "Dean, breathe. Just breathe. It's going to be ok."

"I just … I didn't want her to be alone. I don't want anything to happen to her."

"I know. We're going to keep her safe, I promise. … Dean …" Sam stared at his brother, "Look, I don't think she's a witch, but we need to talk about this. What is going on with you?"

"I have to keep her safe," he whispered.

"You're about to have a panic attack. Look, I get it, she's great; she is. Funny and kind and kick ass." He paused for a short breath, "But this isn't right."

"Sammy -"

"No, Dean. There's something wrong with you. We just met her _yesterday_."

"I know."

"And you're acting like a psycho."

"I know!"

"Hey, I want to keep her around too. We spent 8 hours in a car together and I really got to know her today. ... Did you know that Aya is Korean?"

Dean looked over at Sam with a confused expression, "What?"

"Aya comes from the Korean word for loved. Jin's folks moved to America before she was born. And they called her Aya as a nickname. They died before Gwen's mom got pregnant with her. So when Gwen was born, Jin said she wanted to be called Aya instead of Aunt. To keep her parents around."

Dean blinked, "Why are you telling me this?"

"I don't know … I thought it was cool."

He stared at Sam incredulously. Finally Sam cleared his throat, "Whatever. All I'm saying is, Gwen is an amazing person. But, she's not made of glass, and she doesn't need to be preserved on a shelf."

"I know," Dean muttered.

"No, you don't." Sam continued insistently, "You're letting whatever this is get in the way. I want to protect her just as much as you do. But you can't be an idiot about it. Throwing your weight around and acting like Dad is not going to keep her here. She'll take off."

"I'm not acting like Dad."

"Yes you are, and you know it. Dad had to be in charge. He barked orders and expected them to be followed to the letter. Knowing what we know about teenage Gwen, how well do you think she's going to respond to that?"

"Shit." Dean rubbed the top of his head with a palm, "What do I do?"

"Apologize. Let her know that we know we can trust her. And don't try to tell her what to do. Just … make it more of a team effort, you know? Listen to her ideas, and give her a little room to breathe."

"Yeah, you're right," he sighed, glancing at the bathroom door, "So what now?"

Sam got to his feet and crossed the door, opening it to find an empty bathroom. He stared at the half open window, "Now we do as she said and keep our eyes out for another lead. Cuz if we go track her down instead, she's just gonna be more pissed."


	14. Chapter 14

Gwen drove back to Amy's house, still shaking with rage. Who the hell did he think he was? The mighty Dean Winchester here to save poor little Gwendolyn, who clearly can't lift a finger in defense of herself. Asshole. Seriously, how the fuck did he think she had made it this long? And why would he go from praising her abilities one night to questioning them the next? Fucking bastard.

This is why she had left Simon. He couldn't take that step back, couldn't stop watching her every move and analyzing every fight the second it was over. Yes, he'd done it to help her learn. At first. But then it continued. Even after he'd told her that she didn't really need him anymore; that she'd surpassed his teachings. Still, he couldn't stop nitpicking everything she did, pointing out mistakes and telling her what she should have done differently, instead of praising the fact that she was saving people.

If that was how Dean was going to be, it didn't matter how close she felt to Sam. There was no way she could work in those conditions.

After changing from her uniform top into a white tee-shirt she'd found in the back seat, she sat in her car with a dozen thoughts skittering through her brain. Each one only served to fuel her anger. Snatching an elastic off of the shifter, fingers raked through dark locks, pulling them tightly to the back of her skull. Gwen wound the elastic around the ponytail she'd made, deep ridges carving a scowl on her face, "_Bastard._"

And then she heard it. The blood curdling scream bursting from Amy's home. Her heart skipped a beat, blood running cold. Dear God, don't let her have been so caught up in her petty anger that she'd gotten Amy killed.

Gwen jumped from the car, careening to the trunk. As she pulled out a silver knife and the gun loaded with silver bullets with one hand, the other was typing a text to Sam, "Amy's. NOW."

The trunk lid just barely latched before long legs raced up the stairs and to the porch. A second scream ripped through the night air just as Gwen tried the door. Locked.

Steadying herself, she raised her right leg and slammed it near the knob. Cracking wood met her ears, and she tried a second time. The door burst open and she entered, gun drawn. Seeing nothing in the living room, she passed through to the kitchen.

And there was Amy, a slash across her chest, cowering in the corner with terror shaking every inch of her.

Gwen followed the direction of those wide eyes and found Paul, giant teeth filling his mouth, long pointed claws tipping each finger. Amy _was_ right. With the gun pointed at him, she stepped before the girl, protecting her with her body. She spoke calmly, quietly, trying not to spook either one of them, "Amy, go into the living room."

The young woman began to crawl out from behind her, but when the werewolf snarled, she froze. Gwen couldn't afford to take her eyes off of the monster before her; she could only assume Amy was curled up on the floor behind her. It was clear Amy wouldn't be able to get out of the way on her own. Gwen was going to have to move the girl herself.

In a flash, the silver knife was removed from her back pocket, flying across the room to land solidly in Paul's stomach. He howled ferociously, causing Amy to shriek in horror. Gwen whirled, grabbing the girl and carrying her as easily as she would a baby. She ran from the room, knowing that every second wasted would give the werewolf an upper hand.

She had barely made it out of the kitchen when an arm met her back with such force that she was thrown forward. Amy flew out of her arms, landing behind the couch on the far side of the room. Gwen flipped onto her back just before Paul landed atop her with a roar. She stared up into those slitted eyes, seeing nothing human left in them. His mouth opened wide, a growl ripping from his throat. She grabbed the hilt of the silver knife, tearing it from his body.

He howled from pain, a sound that only grew in intensity when she stabbed it into his back. Reeling up and away from her, he scrambled to grab the knife. Gwen was able to kick him solidly in the chest, knocking him away from her.

Jumping to her feet, she dashed around the couch and knelt next to the blonde. Blood was pouring from Amy's chest, her skin looking paler by the second.

"Amy?" Gwen's voice shook, "Amy, come on, honey. Stay with me."

Without a thought, she tore off her shirt and pressed it against the wound, "You're going to be fine, ok? Don't give up on me yet."

Paul began to growl again, a dangerous sound that started to grow in intensity.

Gwen felt the blood pumping through her veins, the focused pinpoint that settled over her in dire situations. Fingers curled around the weapon until the gun felt like an extension of her arm. With fluid motions, she rose to her feet, second hand curving under the other, taking aim and firing three quick shots.

A terrified voice called from the street, "Gwen!"

Boots thundered up the steps, pounding on the porch and stopping dead when the brothers saw a shirtless Gwen with a pistol aimed across the room. Paul lay dead on the floor, three bullets in his heart. She turned to look at them, glaring at Dean as she lowered her weapon, "That proof enough for you?"

Without waiting for a response, she strode across the room and tossed the body onto its side, pulling the knife from his back. They were still standing in the doorway, looking from one side of the room to the other in awe when she turned back and retrieved the bloody shirt from Amy's body. Showing no emotion, she used the ruined shirt to wipe the blood from her knife.

Sam's voice was just above a whisper, "Amy ..."

"She's dead." Her tone was lifeless. "Paul killed her."Gwen pushed her way through the two of them, walking robotically down to her car.

Dean turned as she passed, watching the way she moved under the moonlight. And he knew. He saw the pain she fought to hide. He saw the walls around her as if they were made of literal bricks. He picked up on the slight tremor in her hand, the lifted chin that dared anyone to suggest that Amy's loss effected her, the extra straight shoulders that bore the weight of guilt. And he felt a stab through his heart. Anguish roiled in his stomach, the shame of his actions searing his soul. It was his fault, he knew. If it hadn't been for him, she might have agreed to let one of them go with her. Amy might have lived … if he hadn't thrown his weight around.

"Gwen, wait." Sam rushed down the steps after her, pulling the plaid shirt off his shoulders and placing it on hers. She reached up, her palm pressed against his knuckles for a moment before she started sliding her arms into the shirt.

"Thank you," she said softly as she began to button it.

Sam, clad now in a simple gray tee-shirt, looked back at Dean. "I'm going to drive her home."

Dean nodded, not trusting his voice for a moment. He cleared his throat, "I'll, uh … clean up in here."

Gwen refused to look back at him, almost pretending like he didn't exist. It killed him.

She slipped into the passenger side, tossing the bloodied shirt on the floor of the backseat. Sam started the car, pulling away from the curb silently. He looked over at her, unsure of what to say. But he didn't need to think of the right words; she started speaking first, "I'm leaving tomorrow."

Sorrow coiled around his heart, "Gwen -"

"No. I can't work with someone who is going to treat me like a child."

"I know he made a mistake -"

"A mistake? He said he was going to tie me to a bed." Her eyes glittered like obsidian, hard and sharp, "Barely a day after I told him what Evan did to me."

Sam drew a breath. That was something that had not occurred to him. How one sentence spoken in anger could cut her so deeply. "Gwen, that's not what he meant. You have to know that."

"It doesn't matter what he _meant_, Sam. The way he said it, what he said … I was back in that room. Someone stronger than me, caring only about what he wanted and not what I needed. How am I supposed to work with him?"

"Look, when it comes to women … Well, Dean's an idiot. He's never spent an extended period of time with a girl before. It's always just been us and our Dad. I was a baby when Mom died. Dean was only four. And we haven't had a whole lot of female contact since then."

"Other than fucking, you mean."

"Come on, Gwen. I got to live with Jess. I got to share my life with her, or at least as much as I could. Dean's never had that. So when it comes to how girls look at things, it's just not going to make sense to him. Trust me, if he would have known how much it would hurt you, he never would have said anything."

"I don't want to hear it, Sammy. Stop defending him. I don't care if he grew up on a planet inhabited only by men." Her arms were crossed over her stomach, pulled close against her body. "He heard what I told him. And any human being should know better than to say shit like that."

"You're right. But I'm not going to stop trying to get you to stay with us. I care about you too much." His voice grew quiet as he pulled into the motel parking lot, "I don't want to see you go."

"I'd ask you to come with me, but I know that you two are on a mission." She pulled her arms tighter around herself. "I don't want to lose you, Sammy. It's been such a short time, but you already mean so much to me."

There was a beat of silence and she opened the door to break it. She got out of the car just seconds before Sam, his shirt looking more like a dress on her small frame. He walked around the car towards her. Her right foot shuffled on the blacktop, fingers curled around the hems of plaid sleeves.

Suddenly she rushed forward, burying herself against his chest. He steadied himself from the shock, then wound his arms around her, holding her close in a warm hug. She sniffled. "I'm so sorry, Sam."

"Me too," he said quietly. She broke away, rushing for her motel room. The door closed firmly behind her, and he slowly made his way over to the room he shared with Dean.

When Dean came back from Amy's house, he found Sam sitting on a bed, staring at his laptop. "Hey."

Sam looked up from the screen. "Hey. How'd it go?"

"If she did leave any prints, they're gone now." Dean paused, trying too hard to act nonchalant, "How did everything go with you?"

He'd meant to tell Dean everything. But now that he was here, waiting for an answer with baited breath, Sam just couldn't bring himself to break his brother's heart. "She's gonna sleep on it. I mean, she's still pissed. She just doesn't know what she's going to do yet."

Dean nodded, running his palm over the top of his head as he headed for the bathroom. Sam knew it wasn't what he'd wanted to hear. Melancholia radiated from him, from hung head and slightly bowed shoulders to the heavy steps he took. But at least he still had hope. For one more night.


	15. Chapter 15

Screeching tires. An idling engine followed by screams echoing in the night. Gwen stood in the dead center of an empty road, watching as her parents' car rolled and flipped in the tall grass. Childish giggles filled her ears, caressing her face like cold fingers. There she was. That little blonde girl. Her eyes bore into Gwen, laughter building all around them. She pointed at the upside down car and Gwen's eyes followed, landing on the terrified faces of her family screeching her name. She willed her body to move, tried to run toward the car to help them. But she was rooted to her spot. Her legs would not obey her and her shoes refused to lift from the ground. She opened her mouth to call to them, but no sound came out. The whole time, girlish giggles echoed.

Hot tears sluiced down Gwen's cheeks. She leaned forward, trying to reach for her family, but her body remained a statue. Nothing she did could break her out of her position. The little girl's laughter changed to words.

"Keep your eyes on them."

"Just watch."

"It's all for you, Gwen."

"Why aren't you laughing?"

"Watch."

"Isn't it just the best thing you've ever seen?"

"The funniest?"

"Watch."

"Watch, watch, watch." The word rattled around her brain, building in tempo, rising and falling in pitch, gaining speed until it no longer made sense. There was just a buzzing in her ears.

Then silence.

The car exploded, pieces flying past her, the ball of fire stretching toward her before soaring skyward.

The heat seared her skin. The bright flames bore images into her corneas that slowly faded long after they had moved. And then, Amy's upper torso landed at her feet.

She stared. For being blown from the fire, there were no scorch marks on her. Just half of her body missing. The long tears on her chest were still there, thin trickles of blood stretching down her skin. Oh, Amy.

Blue eyes popped open. Gwen jumped backward. Well, she tried to jump backward; she was still frozen in place. Amy stared up at her, her face contorting into a rage.

"It's your fault."

"No," Gwen whispered.

"_You killed me!_"

"Paul -"

"Was a monster. You promised me, Gwen."

"Amy ..."

"You swore that you would keep me safe!"

"I'm sorry." Vision blurred, clearing when the tears spilled over. "I'm so sorry."

"Sorry doesn't bring me back!" Amy's voice was rising, "Sorry doesn't change the fact that _I'm dead_!"

"I tried."

Amy scoffed, "You didn't try. You were too busy sitting in your car, feeling sorry for yourself. You were too focused on your anger; too focused on yourself to bother saving me."

"No."

"_Yes! _You could have saved me. You could have gotten to my door as he was changing. You could have stopped him from carving into my chest!" The blood began to stream, to pour. It pooled around her shoes, gathering and growing in height, "You promised you would protect me. You lied."

"No," she whimpered. The blood now reached her ankles; showed no sign of slowing.

"_You lied to me! You cared more about yourself than protecting me._"

"Amy, please."

"_Why didn't you save me, Gwen?_"

The blood pool grew faster now. Amy's body was covered. Gwen couldn't even see her knees anymore. Still, she could hear the blonde's voice in her skull.

"_Why was your ego more important than my life?_"

"It wasn't my ego."

"_What do you call it then? Your rage over someone else trying to protect you?_"

"That's not what it was..."

"_He wanted to keep you safe. And your frail ego couldn't take it._"

The blood had reached her navel, grew to cover her elbows.

"No."

"_Admit it, Gwen. All you've wanted is to save people. To find someone who could help with that and make you feel safe. And once you found it, you responded by getting someone killed._"

"No." Gwen was panicking. The pool of blood had reached her shoulders, "No. No!"

As it touched her neck, she pushed her head backwards, struggling to keep her face above the rising pool.

"_Is your ego really so important that you are willing to let people die?_"

"_NO!_" She screamed. Blood filled her mouth. Poured down her throat.

Gwen's screams filled her own head until everything went black.


	16. Chapter 16

The scream was so loud, it hurt her throat. Between the volume and the pain, she was roughly pulled from slumber. It took a few seconds to get her bearings, to view the dark motel room and remember where she was. When she tried to sit up, she realized that the sheet and blanket were wound tightly around her; a likely explanation of her being unable to move in her dream. Gwen twisted and pulled to free herself, but soon wound up falling over the side of the bed and onto the floor. A small yelp escaped her lips from the shock. But at least she was now able to wiggle her way out of the cocoon her sleeping body had created.

The door burst open with a slam and she froze. Of course, her gun was under the pillow on the other side of the bed. How was she going to get to it before being noticed? As she was formulating a plan, the lights flicked on and a voice called out in panic.

"Gwen!"

Dean. Every muscle relaxed, a soft breath releasing the fear. At least it wasn't some psycho murderer who'd broken in. Well … technically it was, but at least it wasn't someone who was going to hurt her. She peeked over the side of the bed, nothing below her eyes visible.

He stood in the doorway, gun drawn and sweeping the room. Clad in nothing but a tee shirt and boxer briefs. Of course. Why wouldn't he show up in her room in his underwear? It's not like he wanted to make her life easier. No, he was going to show up all muscly and tight and so damn sexy. Then he noticed her. Their eyes locked and she watched as he visibly relaxed, slowly lowering the gun to his side. Stowing her attraction in the back of her mind, she rose to her feet and climbed back onto the bed.

From what Dean could see, she was wearing only Sam's shirt. It felt like a stab in the chest. This girl, who had been driving him insane since the moment he'd first seen her, was obviously into his brother. First the car ride, then the way that she turned to him when he'd given her his shirt, and now here she was wearing it as a nightgown. But, wait, why did this hurt so much? There had been no flirtation between them. So yeah, maybe he was having some crazy feelings. But that didn't mean that anything was going to come of it. Besides, Dean was never one to get his hopes pinned on any one girl. So she liked Sam. He could deal with that. This was no big deal. He swallowed the pain that still pierced and looked at her with concern, "Are you ok?"

She nodded, "Yeah. It's nothing. Just a … bad dream. Sorry to have woken you."

He studied her a moment, picking up on the slight fluctuations in expression as she'd spoken, "Nightmares. Your family?"

She nodded again, more melancholy this time, "I keep having the same dream."

"Yeah, I know what that's like."

Gwen looked up at him, a small glimmer of hope shining, "Do they ever go away?"

He looked apologetically at her, and it broke his heart to answer, "No. But they slow down over time. I used to have the nightmares all the time as it kid. Now it's every few years or so."

"It was different this time," she murmured, looking down at her fingers and fidgeting with her nails. "Amy was in it."

Dean stepped into the room, closing the door behind him though it swung open a crack. He sat on the bed opposite her, placing his gun on the night table. "I know what that's like too. … Have you ever lost anyone before?"

"Yeah. But not like this."

"It happens to all of us."

She shook her head, eyes filling with tears that she tried to hide from him. "Not like this. It was my fault."

"Hey, no. As much as I hate to say it, every hunter loses people."

"I could have saved her," her voice was a husky whisper, "but I was too busy being pissed off in my car."

"Piss – oh. Right." His head hung low, a palm rubbing the back of his head.

"I didn't go check on her. She told me it was Paul, but I was so focused on myself that I didn't even think to check in. I was just sitting in my car like an idiot. And now she's dead."

"It's not your fault, Gwen." He looked at her seriously. "If you want to blame someone, blame me. Alright? Because we both know I'm the reason you were so angry."

Her half smile looked forced, "I should be used to it by now. I've been dealing with misogynistic bullshit for years. There's no reason for me to still be having such a violent reaction."

"Misog … I'm not a misogynist."

She snorted, rolling her eyes while wiping underneath them with the plaid sleeve. "Did I say you were? No. But everything you said was completely misogynistic."

"How do you figure?"

"Simply by the fact that if I had been a man, you wouldn't have been saying any of that."

He opened his mouth to deny it, but then closed it and thought a moment. "You're right."

One side of her mouth curved up, "It's always a hard thing to admit, isn't it? That you were wrong?"

"I didn't mean to be-"

"I know."

"Well, I'm sorry."

"Another difficult confession."

He smirked, shaking his head. She sighed, picking at the hem of Sam's shirt. "All of this doesn't change the fact that my ego got in the way of my job and someone paid for it with their life."

"Nothing is going to change the past, Gwen." He spoke softly. "All we can do is learn from our mistakes. Make sure that it never happens again."

"Maybe I shouldn't be doing this job anymore." Tears began to fill her eyes again.

"Hey, what are you talking about?" Dean moved over to her bed, gently placing his hand on hers, "You're an amazing hunter."

"You know, you really need to get your mind made up. Last night you tell me I'm kick ass. Earlier today you're questioning my abilities. And now I'm an amazing hunter?"

"Earlier I was being a dick."

"Another truth from you."

"Yeah, yeah. Look, I got a little freaked out earlier. I was scared."

"Scared?" She stared at him incredulously.

"The thought of you going off and facing a werewolf by yourself. I panicked. And turned into the Incredible Stupid Man."

"More like Incredibly Stupid Man."

He chuckled. "Yeah you got me there. … I said some horrible things."

"You have no idea."

"What?"

She shook her head. "Nothing. Never mind."

"No, what do you mean?"

A slow sigh breathed out of her. Brown eyes focused on the white sheet beneath her, the fascinating stitch used on the shirt's hem. Anywhere but Dean. She tried to speak so quietly that she could not be heard, "I told you just yesterday morning about what happened with Evan. … And then you threatened to tie me to a bed."

There was a beat of pause. So long that Gwen had to look up to see why Dean hadn't responded. His face had lost all color. Horror shone in his eyes. Dread formed every feature of his face. When he finally spoke, it was as if he couldn't control his own voice. "I'm gonna be sick."

"Dean -"

"No." He shook his head firmly, holding up a hand to stop her. "It's not ok. It's not a mistake to be learned from. It's not anything that you were about to say."

Her tone softened, "Dean -"

"No." The word was spoken firmly and he swallowed "That has got to be the absolute worst thing I have ever done. … The stupidest, cruelest, most horrific thing I have done in my entire life. I can't believe … I can't even begin to apologize."

"Then don't."

He stared at her. And she stared right back.

"Don't apologize. Because you're right. There is no way to apologize for it."

His heart began to sink. One boneheaded moment and he was going to lose her. He deserved to lose her.

"So that's one." She held up her pointer finger, "You ever get to two and I beat the shit out of you. Get to three? You're dead. End of story."

"Gwen -"

"I know that you don't think the way that I do. You haven't lived my life. You don't have the same triggers. Does that excuse you? No. But I'm also not going to have you flogged for not realizing how your words could affect someone else. Could affect me. So, now that you know, if you do anything like that again, I'll consider it intentional. And you'll consider it the worst decision you've made. Understood?"

He swallowed and nodded slowly.

"Good. Now, if you don't mind, I think I'm going to try and get some sleep."

Dean grabbed his gun as he stood up from the bed, "Do you want to stay with us? I kind of destroyed the door..."

"No. I'd rather be in my own space right now. I'll just shove a chair in front of it or something."

He nodded, "Yeah. Goodnight."

"Night."

Long legs strode from the room, pulling the door closed behind him. He waited until he felt the chair slide over on the other side, then released the knob.

"I am an utter piece of shit," he whispered to himself before turning around and seeing Sam standing in front of the door to their shared room, "What are you doing?"

Sam cleared his throat, "Just … uh … making sure Gwen is ok."

"From over there?"

"I peeked in. Saw you two talking. Figured you had a handle on it."

Dean shook his head, slowly sitting down in front of her door. Sam cocked his head to the side, brows knitting together, "What are you doing?"

"I kicked the door in. I just want to make sure that she'll be safe for the rest of the night."

"Dean."

"I owe her that, Sam."

"And it has nothing to do with trying to stop her if she decides to leave?"

"I'm not going to stop her. Hell, I wouldn't blame her. … But you can't fault me for wanting to know if that's what she decides."

"Dean, come on."

"Sammy," he sighed, "I just don't want to wake up tomorrow and find her gone."

Sam shook his head and walked into the room they shared. Dean tried to settle himself comfortably, wondering if he would be able to get any rest. Before he could think on it too long, Sam was walking out of the motel room with sheets and blankets and pillows gathered in his arms.

"What are you doing, Sam?"

"Hey, if you're going to be a stubborn ass, so am I. Scooch over." Sam handed his brother a pillow and a sheet and blanket before sitting down next to him. They huddled together, two men intent on protecting the woman inside, two brothers staying together through the night.


	17. Chapter 17

The rest of the night had been peaceful for Gwen. She woke feeling happy and rested, although a little annoyed at the dreams involving Dean that had occurred in her second bout of slumber. Stupid things involving sweetness and long-lasting hugs, tenderness and kisses. She cursed her subconscious while she showered, but still could not remove the smile from her face.

Right now all she wanted was to stop being lonely. It would be nice to have someone washing her back. Watching! Watching. She meant washing. Watching! Dammit.

She felt like she had finally found true friendship. And looking back over the course of her life, she had to admit that it was a first for her. Those kids she had spent all her time with as a teen had vanished after Evan went to jail. Any of them who might have tried to contact her were scared off once her family had died. Once her cousins started trashing her to anyone who would listen. She knew it had all been done out of grief. They had lost their parents, just as she had. But the three boys had also seen her leaving the parking lot sitting in the car that would later crash. They didn't believe her explanation, instead thinking that she left everyone to die to save her own skin. When she'd tried to talk to them, they'd said vicious things. And that was when she'd realized that the only person she could rely on was Aya.

Now she had Sam.

Technically, she had Dean too. Except that she didn't. For the first time in her life, she had no control over her emotions. Not when she was around Dean. So she would just have to try to not be around him. Being around Dean was just confusing. And after those dreams last night, she only felt more unsure.

In the end, it didn't matter what her feelings told her; didn't matter what dreams she had. Gwen was in command of her life. She'd sworn there would be no inappropriate attachment between her and the Winchesters. And she was determined to see that through.

Still, she was in a better mood than she had been in a long time. Gwen chose her outfit carefully, an expression of the happiness in her heart. She packed her things, making sure that nothing was left hanging around the motel room. Once she was satisfied, the chair was moved away from the door and she stepped outside, seeing Sam walking across the parking lot towards her.

Her smile was wide. "Hey, Sammy!"

"Gwen! How are you?"

"Good." She put her duffle on the ground and held out his neatly folded shirt. "I wore your shirt to bed last night … I hope you don't mind."

He chuckled, "You wore it to bed?"

"Well, I thought I was leaving today. I guess … I just wanted to hold on to you a little bit longer."

"Wait … you _thought_ you were leaving?"

She nodded with a small smile, "Yeah. I decided to stay."

Sam pulled her into a warm hug, "I'm glad. What changed your mind?"

"Dean, actually." When she stepped back, she could see the mild surprise on his face. "Yeah, I know. The one that pissed me off completely and had me ready to take off got me to change my mind without even realizing it."

"What happened? Does it have anything to do with that scream last night?"

"I had a nightmare," she said quietly. "Kind of embarrassing. Sorry if I woke you."

"No, it's fine."

"Well, Dean just sort of burst in. We wound up talking. About a lot of different things."

"Like what?"

"Nightmares, this job, what an idiot he was."

Sam had to laugh at that, "Did you actually get him to admit it? Because that would be a miracle."

"Oh, yeah. I got an 'I was wrong', an apology, and a promise to never do it again."

"You sure you're not a witch?"

Gwen laughed, lightly shoving him, "No, I'm just magical."

"Like a unicorn. A mystical creature who can do things no other person has ever been able to do."

She laughed harder. He grinned at her, "I'm glad you're staying, Gwen."

A permanent smile etched her features. "Me too. So, what do you say? Find somewhere to grab breakfast, start looking for a new case?"

"Sounds good to me. I'm just going to grab some stuff from our room."

"I'm driving."

"So we'll be taking your car, then."

"What, you don't think Dean will let me drive the Impala?"

"You may be magic, but it took me 22 years to drive that thing."

"Oh, it better not take that long," she smirked.

He chuckled. "Hey, I'll carry your bag to your car, if you want."

"Aww. Thanks, Sammy!"

Dean, who had been watching the exchange, saw the two separate. Sam going into their room and Gwen heading in his direction. He was completely enraptured as she moved across the lot. Clad in a sky blue halter sundress, dark locks pulled into a loose bun with tendrils falling in varying places, no make up on porcelain skin … she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

He turned away before she could catch his stare and he fought to steady his breathing. This attraction was going to be hard to fight. He'd never bothered hiding it when he found a woman to be attractive. Hell, he'd even hit on Jess right in front of Sam. But now everything was different. Gwen was going to be sticking around. And she was interested in Sam. For everyone's sakes, it would be easier if Dean kept his thoughts to himself. If Gwen could get Sam's head off of Jess after 6 months, well there was no standing in the way of that. Sam deserved to be happy, right? So Dean would just keep his mouth shut.

"Hey." The greeting was bright and warm. And when Dean turned away from his car, he found himself staring at her again. This was going to be more difficult than he'd thought.

He offered a small smile. "How was the rest of your night?"

Her grin faltered slightly. "Fine. No other nightmares at least. We're going to go grab some breakfast in a minute. I'm driving."

"That's fine."

"I'm gonna go settle up with the motel. Pay for that door and all." With a little wave of her hand, she was striding away.

Sam came walking up then, carrying Gwen's bag. Dean took one look at his brother and said, "Shotgun."

Sam's reply was to roll his eyes. Gwen was back quickly and the three piled into her car. When she started it, a CD began to play automatically. She was backing out of the parking space when Dean made a face and gestured to the CD player. "You call this music?"

"Hey," she said sharply, pointing a finger at him. "I'm going to tell you the same thing I told Sammy. I have one rule in my car. Driver picks the music. Everyone else shuts the fuck up about it."

Dean raised a brow, looking back at Sam, who nodded with a smirk.

"Really?" Dean asked.

"I know," said Sam with a chuckle.

"What? Am I missing something here?" Gwen glanced back at Sam and then at Dean before looking back out the windshield.

"Just another way you and Dean are alike."

"What are you talking about, Sammy?"

"My rule for the car." Dean shook his head.

"Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole." Sam quoted.

Gwen rolled her eyes, "Honestly, guys. That's pretty much everyone's rule."

"Still. What the heck is this?" Dean pointed at the radio.

"Within Temptation." At his expression, she reached to press a button that would switch to the radio, "You're lucky I'm in such a great mood and feel like being nice."

The beginning notes of "... Baby One More Time" floated from the speakers and Gwen began to cackle. Both Sam and Dean groaned as Gwen began bouncing around to the beat. As the song started, she even started singing along, purely to annoy the both of them.

"Oh baby, baby. How was I supposed to know. That something wasn't right here. Oh baby baby. I shouldn't have let you go. And now you're out of sight, yeah. Show me, how you want it to be. Tell me baby. 'Cause I need to know now what we've got." Once she began to remember what the chorus was, her voice began to lower in volume with each line. "My loneliness is killing me. I must confess, I still believe. When I'm not with you I lose my mind. Give me a sign."

Those were lyrics Gwen didn't want to think about. Especially not after dreaming about Dean so much the night before. She pushed the scan button and the speakers blared, "I wanna know what love is. I want you to show me. I wanna feel what love is. I know you can show me."

Even though Dean had commented that he loved the song, it was even worse lyrically for her. It was a fight to keep her expression neutral, what with the fluttering in her heart. Why was the radio working against her? She hit the scan button again, and the voices of 'NSYNC filled the car, "You're all I ever wanted. (You're the one I want) You're all I ever needed. (You're the one I want) So tell me what to do now. When I want you back."

"Son of a …" she muttered under her breath and snapped the radio off. Glancing in the rear view mirror, she saw Sam pinching his lips together to stifle a laugh, his blue eyes positively dancing with joy. What the hell did he find so funny? Gwen hadn't told him anything about how she'd been feeling about Dean. She glared at him and looked back at the road.

"I take it you're giving up on the tunes?" Dean queried.

"We're almost there." She brushed off the question.

A short while later, she pulled into the lot of another diner and parked. Inside looked like just about all the other diners they had ever visited. They plopped into a booth, Sam sitting with Dean. A young woman walked over almost immediately. She had long blonde hair, a killer figure, and the kind of face that belonged on a model.

She passed out menus, big blue eyes batting at Dean. "Can I start you guys with drinks?"

"Coffee." Sam opened his menu.

Dean nodded. "What he said."

"Sure thing." She smiled wide, revealing perfect white teeth. The woman had yet to take her eyes off of Dean.

When she looked like she was about to walk away, Gwen tapped her arm. "I'd like a large orange juice, please."

The waitress barely glanced at her, "Yeah."

Her brows knit together. What the hell was her problem? Gwen decided to forget it and not let it sour her mood. She looked over the menu, trying to decide whether or not she was going to give into her sweet tooth that morning.

"What was that about?" Sam watched the waitress going into the kitchen.

"Ah, who knows. Maybe she's just having a bad day." Gwen shrugged.

"Dude. Check it out." Dean nudged his brother before pointing at the menu. "Lumberjack special."

Sam shook his head, "Are you trying to clog your arteries?"

"It's bacon."

"And sausage. And eggs. And homefries."

"Boys." Gwen didn't look up from the choices she was narrowing down. "Don't make me turn this car around."

Sam snickered. Dean smirked but just shook his head. The waitress was back, placing cups of coffee before the guys and nearly spilling the full cup of juice when she plopped it near Gwen. The brunette looked up at the other woman with an air of annoyance, but once again the waitress only had eyes for Dean.

Funnily enough, Dean was the only one who didn't notice the woman's preoccupation with him. He'd thus far barely looked at her. Sam's face was tight with irritation when he grabbed some napkins out of the metallic container sitting on the table and handed them to Gwen, looking up at the waitress pointedly.

She ignored him, smiling sweetly at Dean. "You ready to order, honey?"

One nod of his head and he closed his menu, holding it up for her. "Lumberjack special."

She gave him what was clearly her most dazzling smile as she took the menu. It faltered slightly when he looked back at Gwen, seeming to be unaffected by her. Forcing the smile to remain on her face, she looked to Sam.

"Two scrambled eggs and wheat toast."

Taking his menu, any warmth completely dropped from her face when she turned to face Gwen, "What do you want?"

Her jaw tightened, but Gwen swallowed her temper, "Bacon and feta omelet, please."

"Yeah, sure." The waitress turned her back on Gwen, all sweetness and smiles in Dean's view. She placed her hand on his shoulder as she went to walk past. "Be right back, darlin'."

Gwen scowled at the woman's back. It was bad enough, this waitress acting like she didn't even exist, like she was too good to have to serve the likes of her, but the way she was fawning all over Dean was sickening. It would be so easy to give in to her temper; follow that waitress into the back and kick her ass, show her what happens when you forget your manners. Fucking bitch. Tension and ground teeth set a rigid jawline; Gwen could feel herself growing angrier by the second, forcing herself to remain seated. Before long, rationality would turn to smoke and there would be nothing holding her back.

Sam cleared his throat and sipped his coffee. "Anyone grab a paper on the way in?"

His voice brought Gwen's thoughts around. When they caught eyes, his speaking soothing things that assuaged the tumult bouncing around her head, she could feel the rage streaming out of her. The deflation brought a sense of peace, her good mood slowly returning. This was why she needed Sam around. He brought out that rationality in her. Besides, why should she give someone the ability to alter anything about her, even if it was just emotions.

"I figured you were going to bring your laptop, Sammy."

"The addition of another hunter crowds the table too much." His tone was that of a child sticking out his tongue.

She chuckled, shaking her head. "So, now we have to wait until we get back to the motel to look for another job?"

"It's not _my_ fault." Sam taunted.

"Kids, don't make me turn this car around." Dean looked from one to the other.

Gwen snorted. "Come up with your own lines, Dean."

"Well I don't see anything wrong with taking a morning off and just enjoying a meal." Dean settled back in the booth, picking up his mug.

"I'd love to take a week off." Gwen folded the napkins Sam had given her, carefully placing them in a stack before folding one in half and tucking it under her glass. "You guys have no idea how difficult it is to dance on four inch stilettos for hours on end."

"Wasn't that over a case ago?" Sam feigned a thoughtful expression.

"Listen here, Sammy. The next time you go eight hours dancing in your underwear for total pervs every night for six weeks straight, then you will have the right to mock." Gwen kicked a flip-flop clad foot at him.

Sam laughed. Dean just grinned and shook his head before glancing out the window at her car, "Hey, Gwen, when is the last time you had your car looked at?"

"Uhh, I don't know. A couple months ago when I got an oil change?"

"So you don't do tune ups?"

"No. It's called buying a car brand new so it doesn't need to be worked on every other week."

Dean closed his eyes for a moment, a breath whooshing out of him. He placed his coffee in front of him and looked at her pointedly. "You have to maintain your vehicle, Gwen. It doesn't matter when you bought it. Besides, that car was brand new six years ago. You know, I thought I heard something off with the engine when you turned off the radio. I'm gonna take a look at it when we get back to the hotel."

She looked to Sam, whose expression told her that she was on her own. "Um, thanks, Dean. But I can just take it to a mechanic."

Sam's face scrunched up, one eye peeking over at Dean. The older brother pursed his lips, eyes cast toward the ceiling in a request for patience. Gwen looked from one to the other, "What? Did I say something wrong?"

"Gwen, would you rather let some dickweed take advantage of you and overcharge for things you don't even need, or would you rather let someone who actually knows what they are doing fix everything for free?"

Sam inhaled through his teeth. "Yeah. Just … Just let him do it, Gwen. You'll never hear the end of it if you don't."

"Ok, ok." She looked across the table at Dean and leaned forward, using her best helpless girl voice. "Dean, would you be so wonderful as to take a look at my car for me?"

At that, Sam burst out laughing so hard that he had to put his head down on the table. Dean licked his lips and smiled. "See, now that's better."

Gwen rolled her eyes, but couldn't stop herself from snickering. She definitely hadn't made the wrong choice when she decided to stay with these two. It felt good to laugh again.


	18. Chapter 18

Why did he have to be such a hard ass? It was like he was purposefully trying to piss her off. Or maybe he just had a talent for it. First it was the determination to fix her car on his own. Then he was insistent that he was going to pay for the parts he had to pick up. Gwen's temper had flared then, shown in rigid face and tone of voice. He'd backed down, taken her cash and headed into town while she glared after the Impala.

The next few hours she'd spent with Sam. First bitching about Dean and how far his head must be up his own ass, switching to questions about how Sam could turn out so well when they had been raised the same way, and finally sitting down and scouring the web for another gig.

Eventually she wandered back outside, wondering just how long it was going to take to do a tune up. The second she rounded the car and saw Dean, she wished she'd stayed inside.

He'd taken off his layers, leaving only a tee-shirt on. Strong hands were covered with grease, stains creeping up bare forearms. Smudges danced around his face, the darkest one swiped across his forehead. He looked as happy as a stray cat in an aviary.

Her heart skipped a beat when she laid eyes on him. Another when he looked up and caught her gaze, perfect lips spreading wide. She offered a smile in response, but waited a beat to calm herself before speaking. "Any idea how long this is going to take?"

"Couple more hours, at least. There's still a lot to be done." He grabbed a stained towel and wiped at his hands. "If you'd kept up with it over the years, I'd be done by now."

"Oh, well, excuse me for not being raised in a junkyard."

"I'm just saying. You're a hunter. You drive everywhere. It never occurred to you to maintain your car?"

She scowled at him. "I was taught to keep up with oil changes and bring it in when I get a warning light. That's what I do."

Dean shook his head. "Stick around long enough and you'll be the one with your hands in the engine."

She snorted and rolled her eyes, "No. Not happening."

"Come here. I can start teaching you now."

Warily, Gwen moved to the side of the car and peered down at the jumble of metal. "I don't think I have enough memory space left in my head to understand that mess."

He chuckled, pointing at the dipstick. "Grab that. At the very least, you should know how to check your oil level."

"But it's gross." Her nose wrinkled at it.

"Come on. You can handle blood and guts, but the thought of getting a little engine grease on your hands is where you draw the line?"

"Don't judge me." She crossed her arms. "Besides, why do I need to learn this stuff when I've got you?"

He grinned at her. That fucking grin that threatened to make her go weak in the knees. The one that tied her stomach in knots and stopped her heart for a few seconds. She glared at him, folded arms wrapping tighter to her chest, "That's not what I meant. Dick."

She spun away from him, practically stomping back inside. "Don't know why the hell I even came out here," she muttered to herself.

He watched her go, shaking his head when the door closed. "Yeah, great job staying out of Sammy's way, Dean."


	19. Chapter 19

Gwen found an article that sounded promising, so they drove to Kentucky once Dean was finished with the Intrepid's tune up. There they found a haunted house. It was an open and shut case, since only one violent death had occurred on the property, and they burned the body without ever encountering the ghost. Between the drive and the case, two days had passed.

They had been working together barely a week, yet it was so easy it was as if they had never worked apart. Granted, they hadn't had any really tough cases yet. Maybe it would always be this simple. … Not that Gwen considered it to be simple, working alongside Dean Winchester. It was as if he knew exactly what to say or do to flutter her emotions every time. And her dreams didn't slow. Every night she was in Dean's arms, feeling his lips against hers, his breath on her skin. It was maddening. Why was her mind working against her? She was still determined that nothing would happen between her and either brother, but her dreams were making it difficult to want to hold to that. She was prepared to do anything to wipe him out of her head. Her evening was spent at a local bar, drinking and chatting up the locals. Until she found someone she liked, that is. He was cute. Tall, dark hair, brown eyes, and a killer smile. And completely willing to go back to a random motel with a gorgeous girl.

They spent a couple hours tangled between the sheets. Gwen thoroughly enjoyed the time void of emotion. There were no feelings here; not a thought in her head. It was all about the senses: the touch of warm hands, the smell of cologne, the taste of beer clinging to his tongue. She wasn't satisfied until the tingling of every nerve destroyed all but the moment. There was no past, no future. Only the present and the man who writhed beneath her.

By the time she rolled off him she was breathless. He lay motionless, staring at the ceiling with a dopey little grin.

"Wow." He breathed out the word in between gasps for air.

She smirked. "Catch your breath, cowboy. I'm gonna want to go again."

He half rolled to face her, espresso eyes shining, "I think I just may love you."

A short laugh burst from her. "Oh, darlin'. You're not the first to say that. Won't be the last either."

She rose from the bed, plucking up a shirt she often slept in and tossed it over her head. "I'm gonna grab a bottle of water from the vending machine. You want anything?"

He groaned as he flopped onto his back. "I can't feel my body."

She smirked while tossing on a pair of jeans. "Well then, you're welcome."

Someone started pounding on the door and Gwen answered with a raised eyebrow. Sam and Dean were standing outside.

"We gotta go." Dean said.

"What?" Gwen turned to the man inside her room. "Hey, I'll be right back."

Stepping outside and closing the door behind her, she looked up at the two of them. "Guys, it's the middle of the night."

"Who was that?" Dean gestured toward the door behind her.

"Greg. … George? Maybe it was Colin. I don't know."

"There's a guy in your bed and you don't even know his name?"

"Dean." Sam broke in. "Don't. Gwen, we have a case. We have to leave."

"Yeah. Georgia. We're heading out tomorrow morning?"

"It's a different case." Dean stuck his hands in his pockets.

"And we have to leave now? Come on, guys, I haven't even slept yet."

"I'm sorry, Gwen. I am." Sam sighed.

"Can you at least tell me what's going on?"

The brothers exchanged a look, both trying to find the right words. Finally Sam just shook his head, "I have these … dreams. And sometimes they come true."

She paused a moment, then nodded. "Ok. Well, you want me to meet you there tomorrow morning? I don't really trust myself to drive right now."

"Wait, that's it?" questioned Dean. "You're taking this a lot better than I did."

Gwen shrugged, "I've seen a lot. Granted, never someone with visions, but enough to know that some psychics aren't charlatans. And if Sam says he has premonitions, I believe him."

"Why don't you just come with us. You can sleep in the car." Sam sounded like he was getting to the end of his patience.

"And leave my car in the parking lot of a shitty hotel? I don't think so."

"Dean, call Bobby. Tell him to come and tow her car back to his place."

"What? Sammy -"

He interrupted Gwen, "We need to go. And I'd rather have you with us. Ok?"

She sighed, "Fine. Let me just grab my stuff."

Dean pulled out a cell phone and started scrolling through his contacts. Sam mouthed a "Thank you" to which she just nodded. Opening the door, she looked over at the guy still lying on the bed. "Hey, I'm taking off."

"What? I thought you wanted to go again."

"Unfortunately, sweetheart, I don't have the time. But the room's paid for. Feel free to stay if you want." Gwen grabbed a bra off the floor and tossed it into her duffle bag, which she'd brought back inside earlier.

"Well, can I at least get your number?" He was sitting up, staring at her with a plaintive look.

"That's sweet, dollface. But I won't be back this way in … well, ever. But thanks for the ride. It was fun." With a wink she was out the door and heading for the Impala with Sam. "So this dream. What exactly are we walking into here?"

"Guy trapped in a garage with the engine of his car running. He dies."

"So why do you think this is our kind of problem?"

"This last time this happened … It involved our old house."

"Where your mom ..." She trailed off.

"Yeah." Sam glanced away, "The time before that, it was about Jess."

"Oh, Sammy." Gwen dropped her bag and wrapped her arms around him. "I'm so sorry."

Dean caught up to them then. He cleared his throat. "Well, Bobby was pretty pissed about me waking him up this time of night. But he's on his way."

"Let's go then." She picked up her bag and went to the car, climbing into the back seat. Setting the duffle like a pillow, Gwen wound the seat belt around her torso and lay down. She spoke again once they'd gotten into the front. "I'm gonna try and catch some shut eye. Wake me when we get there."

"You got it." Sam pulled out his own cell phone and looked to Dean.

Without a word, Dean started the engine and drove the Impala away from the motel.


	20. Chapter 20

"I'm not dressing like a nun."

"What exactly is your plan, then? How are you going to get in to see the family?"

"I'll figure something out," Gwen answered Dean stubbornly.

Sam looked up at the two of them from his seat on the motel bed. "Hey, I don't exactly like this plan either."

"Shut it, Sammy." Dean pointed at him.

Gwen rolled her eyes. "Always gotta be in charge, huh, Dean?"

"You saw that crowd last night. And you heard the same things I did. Why don't you tell me a better way to be invited into the house?"

He fought her every step of the way, of course. Even going so far as to bitch as they climbed into the Impala to head to the Miller's house. Gwen ignored him, as she had been doing for the past half hour. She couldn't ignore the sight before her, though. From the back seat, she saw only the black clad backs of the brothers, who were dressed as priests. It was a ludicrous idea that Dean had come up with, and she was still unsure that it was going to work. They certainly didn't look like any priests she'd seen before. Of course, if the Catholic church back home had had priests that looked like the Winchesters, she probably would have actually attended in her youth.

_No. … We're not going down that line of thinking. There is no attraction. There is nothing appealing about Dean Winchester. Certainly not that sculpted face or those strong arms or that perfect ass that just seems to make every pair of pants he owns turn into a drool inducing piece of art. … Goddammit. Stop thinking about Dean!_

When they arrived at the house, Gwen was the first one to the door. She knocked lightly, the brothers walking up to stand behind her. The door opened to reveal a middle aged man, the one who had been consoling Mrs. Miller last night.

"Hey. I'm Gwen. I was just down at St. Augustine's looking into membership and I ran into Father Simmons and Father Frehley here. They're new junior priests and we heard about what happened and … may we come in?"

He nodded and the three stepped inside. Sam spoke softly, "We're sorry for your loss."

Dean offered a platitude, "It's in difficult times like these when the Lord's guidance is most needed."

The man scowled. "Look, you wanna pitch your whole 'Lord has a plan' thing? Fine. Just don't pitch it to me. My brother's dead."

Alice, the dead man's wife, showed then. "Roger. Please!"

Roger Miller moved away, offering a small, "Excuse me."

Alice sighed. "I'm sorry about my brother in law. He's...he's just so upset about Jim's death. Would you like some coffee?"

"That would be great." Dean said as the brothers followed her toward the living room.

Gwen paused. Instead of following Alice, she trailed after Roger. They could handle her. Maybe Jim's brother needed a more feminine touch.


	21. Chapter 21

There was nothing to be gained from the Miller family. None of them had anything outside of normal grieving to say. Dean swept the house. There were no signs of spirits or demons; nothing that could explain why Sam had that dream. And while they had been discussing that same fact, Sam had nearly passed out from the pain of having a vision while awake. A vision that showed Roger as the next to die.

They'd arrived as fast as they could. And even though they caught Roger outside, they weren't able to stop him from going in. They weren't able to stop him from dying.

It was something that Sam couldn't deal with. He was angry over being given premonitions that he couldn't do anything to change. The brothers once again dressed as priests and went to the Miller residence to speak to Max again. Because of Gwen's excuse the first time around, she wasn't able to go with them. A new member of the church showing up with priests visiting a family … it just didn't make sense. So she stayed at their hunting cabin-esque motel room, worrying at a hangnail.

"He _wasn't_ right." She muttered to herself as she looked through the guys' bathroom in search of nail clippers. "Putting on a habit wouldn't have made a difference. Nuns don't visit families."

In lieu of finding what she was looking for, Gwen took to biting at the hangnail until it bled.

They returned with no news but a suspicion about the family's history that was proved wrong once the trio made their way to the Millers' old neighborhood, the very street where Max was raised and beaten. Gwen's heart broke for the young boy whose trust and safety were broken repeatedly by his father and uncle.

Though all thoughts of Max were erased when Sam had another vision, this one revealing Max to be the killer. And telekinetic. The shocks just kept on coming.

When they arrived at the Miller's house again, they burst in on an emotional Max and a clearly frightened Alice. They had to tread lightly and keep Max calm. But they never got the chance to talk him down in a safe environment. Max spotted the gun tucked into Dean's waistband and trapped them all inside, using his power to take Dean's gun. He also knocked Alice backward with his telekinesis in his anger. She lay unconscious on the floor, blood trickling from her head where she'd hit it on the kitchen table.

Sam just seemed to know what to do. He got Max to agree to talk to him alone, with the restriction that no one was allowed to leave the house. So Dean carried Alice upstairs, Gwen trailing after them. Neither Gwen nor Dean were happy about leaving Sam alone with Max; but they both knew that keeping Max calm was the priority now. Sam had some kind of rapport with the young man. If anyone had a shot at talking Max out of killing Alice, it was Sam.

Dean took to cleaning Alice's head wound. Gwen paced the master bedroom, wondering what Sam was saying and if it would be enough.

"Can you sit down for a second? You're making me dizzy." The words snapped more harshly than he'd intended.

Gwen felt the surge of temper but bit it back. It wouldn't make the situation any better to start another pointless fight. Still, she turned to him with a scowl that softened when she read the regret in his eyes. They were both worried about Sam; it was clear his tone came from anxiety and not from annoyance with her. She drew a breath. "Yeah. Sorry."

Alice had tears welling in her eyes; hands shaking in her lap. She looked from one to the other, but said nothing. Gwen couldn't even begin to imagine what was going through her mind. The silence stretched between the three of them, all thinking about the boys downstairs.

The door slowly creaked open on its own and Max stepped from the hall into the bedroom. Once inside, the door slammed behind him. Dean rose from his crouched position. All Gwen could think about was Sam. Where was Sam?

Dean strode toward Max and then flew backwards, slamming into the wall so hard that he left a hole in the drywall.

"Dean!" Gwen cried, flying to his side as he groaned and struggled to sit up.

Max withdrew Dean's gun from his pocket. Alice said his name and he slowly raised the gun. Dean rose and flexed his jaw, walking toward Max with purpose. He stopped when Max released the gun, leaving it floating in midair. Gwen slowly stood, watching the unfolding scene with a mind reeling through hundreds of possibilities. She had to think of something. Something to diffuse this situation that was rapidly escalating.

The gun floated forward, cocking and then turning to aim at Alice. She said his name again, rising from the bed with pain and fear in her eyes. Dean stepped in front of her, the gun swiveling to follow his every move.

"Stay back," said Max, his face stained with tears. "It's not about you."

"You want to kill her, you gotta go through me first."

"Ok." Max's voice was resolved.

"No!" Gwen shrieked, rushing forward.

The door burst open, Sam barreling in. "No, don't! Don't! Please. Please, Max."

Max seemed to cower, his lip trembling. He half turned to Sam, keeping an eye on him and the gun aimed at Dean.

"Max, we can help you, alright?" Sam spoke softly. "But this, what you're doing … it's not the solution. It's not going to fix anything."

Max's face was crumbling. Who could even begin to imagine the pain that he was feeling? His breaths came shakily, almost sobs. His features were marred with pain when he quietly responded, "You're right."

Sam smiled, the relief clear in his eyes. In a split second, the gun whirled and fired. Max had been leaning forward, the bullet burying itself in his head.

"No!" Sam yelled, eyes wide with horror.

But he was gone.


	22. Chapter 22

Time ticked by, bringing new days and new cases. The more they worked through, the closer they became. They began to rely on each other; to act like a team and predict each others' moves. Miles passed below black tires, classic rock the only music that met their ears.

The only time they spent apart was in the evenings. Gwen was thankful for what little separation she could get. Constant close quarters wore on her. To go from 5 years solo to 16+ hours a day with two other people was a huge adjustment. It certainly didn't help her to refrain from the growing attraction she felt for Dean. The attraction she refused to admit was real. The same attraction she tried to replace by inviting a different man into her bed every chance she got. What had been a once to twice a week/few times a month habit was quickly becoming a near daily occurrence. The string of men worked for keeping her distance, but they couldn't stop the dreams of Dean that still haunted her at night.

They were in Clarence, Iowa; having just finished a gig involving a poltergeist. By the time they finished, it was nearing midnight. The three of them agreed to get some sleep and regroup in the morning.

Sam and Dean crashed, both falling into a deep sleep within minutes.

Until the insistent trilling of Sam's cell phone broke into his slumber. With a groan, he rolled over and plucked it open, one eye squinted at the glare from the screen. Voice laden with sleep, he suppressed a yawn. "Do you have any idea what time it is?"

All traces of exhaustion fell away in an instant as he sat up. "What's going on?"

Flicking on the light and standing while he listened, Sam held a hand to his other ear when Dean began to moan and mumble curses at him, "Ok. Ok, calm down. Just tell me where you are."

Dean wearily opened his eyes, looking up at Sam. "Who is it?"

Sam waved a hand at his brother in a request for quiet so he could hear, "How did you even get there? … No, you're right. It doesn't matter."

"Sammy, who is it?" Dean asked louder, impatient at his sleep being interrupted.

Sam looked over at him and mouthed, "Gwen."

Like a shot, Dean was out of the bed and snatching the phone out of Sam's hand. "Gwen? What's going on? Are you ok?"

Her voice was a strained whisper. "I was just following a hunch with the disappearances and wanted to get some more facts. I didn't even think it was going to be anything and then I saw him and … you guys gotta get me out of here."

"Where are you?"

"Wheatland. Two towns over. Hurry, Dean. I didn't bring weapons or holy water or anything and … I don't know how long I can hide from the demon."

"Demon." Serious eyes locked with Sam's, a flash of fear crossing them. "Just hold tight, Gwen. We're coming."

There was a pause long enough to make Dean's heart jump into his throat. Just when he was about to speak, her voice came through the line sounding hopeless.

"He found me."


	23. Chapter 23

"You have some choices." The demon's Cheshire cat grin revealed brilliantly white teeth. He leaned casually against the nearest wall, watching her closely. There was nothing about him that would suggest anything wrong. His clothing, while understated in style, was impeccably neat. Blond hair curled sweetly about his collar. Neither ugly nor handsome, he was the type of guy you would walk past without a second thought. No one would think it necessary to avoid him. No, nothing seemed off about him. Until you watched his eyes change to black.

"And here I thought chivalry was dead."

The skin around his eyes crinkled as his smile reached them. "I look forward to seeing how long your bravado lasts."

"Oh, I think you'll find that I can last all night, sugar."

He stepped forward, hands clasping behind him as he approached. "It's been a long time since I've gotten my hands on a hunter. I have to wonder, is it the knowledge of what I am that strengthens this little mask you wear?"

"What makes you think it's a mask?" Her eyes were hard as she stared at him. She wouldn't hide her face. She wouldn't let him get under her skin.

"It's always a mask. Soon enough, everyone shows me who they really are. Some last longer than others, but they all break." He tilted his head to the side, studying her for a moment. Then he swooped forward, his nose inches away from hers. "I look forward to breaking you."

"Take off these chains and let's get started." Hands opened, rattling the long chain that hung from the high barn ceiling. It split in two at the bottom ending in the shackles that held her wrists.

He shook his head. "I'll be keeping you there. Just like everyone else who's come before."

That would explain all the blood stains around her feet. All those people who had gone missing. Just what had this demon done to them? Gwen's eyes narrowed. "Are we just going to stand here all night squawking at each other?"

He snickered. "Eager to die, are we? Well, I said you had choices. Here they are: you can tell me who you were talking to when I found you cowering in that alley _before_ I begin to slice your flesh from your bones, or you can tell me when you're begging me not to cut you anymore."

"Not much of an option."

"Following the demands of my idiotic superiors gets a little taxing now and then. That's when I come here and … let off a little steam. Just kick back and really _enjoy_ myself. This time I found myself a little hunter to carve." He leaned forward, black eyes so close they reflected her own. "This night ends when you die. There's no getting out of that."

"Clearly you don't know me very well." She smashed her forehead into his nose, sending him reeling back just from the force of her hit. Though her head was spinning, she gripped the chains and climbed just until she could wind the chain around her forearm. Her legs curled up against her torso and then snapped down, both shoes slamming into his face as he was stepping toward her.

It knocked him flat and though she was now swinging on the chain, she began to climb. A chain was different from a pole, but strength was strength and if she could rely on her arms to pull her body to the top of a stripper pole, she could certainly rely on them now. She clambered up the chain as fast as she could, trying to get some distance between her and the demon.

He got to his feet and watched her, utterly disgusted. "No one ever claimed you hunters were smart."

One wave of his hand and she was hit with an invisible force that tore her grip from the chain and sent her back down to the floor. However, her forearm was still wrapped, so she didn't hit the ground. Instead a scream ripped from her throat when her fall ceased, the force and her weight working hand in hand to separate her shoulder.

The demon smirked at her as she swung, her face contorted into a grimace. Her right hand came up to grab onto the chain, pulling until she was able to unwind her left arm. As she was getting settled on her feet, he approached like a jaguar stalking prey.

Refusing to show fear, she stared straight into those black holes as he neared.

Gripping her dislocated shoulder tightly, he began to rotate it, pushing and pulling until she screamed again, "Now. Are you going to tell me who you were talking to?"

"Go to hell." She spoke through her teeth, ground tightly to bite back more screaming.

"You first." A hand disappeared into his coat, withdrawing a long knife that flashed when it caught the light.

Gwen steeled herself as best she could, but when the razor sharp blade met the ivory skin of her arm she couldn't stop from grimacing again. The weight of the blade carried it across her arm, a thin seam of separation in the skin filling and spilling over with blood. It was just the preview. Each cut after went a little deeper than the one before until half the width of the blade disappeared into her as he carved.

"I like to take my time, as you can see."

Tears streamed and she'd lost track of the shrieks that had escaped. It was getting harder to hold them back. The last thing she wanted was to give him what he wanted, but she wasn't sure how much further she could go before the pain overwhelmed her and filled the barn with wailing. He had sworn to break her and it was starting to look like her bravado was as hollow as his heart. She breathed heavily, trying to stem the flow of tears; to hold in the sobs that burned in her chest. Both arms wore trails of blood, a few more curving over her stomach and hips.

"And here I thought you just had to pace yourself to keep from getting worn out. I've seen ghosts cause more damage than you in half the time."

"Hiding behind your sarcasm." Condescending laughter quickly shifted to a vicious snarl as he backhanded her.

Her head snapped to the side, the coppery taste of blood filling her mouth. She spat blood onto the floor just before he stepped so close they were nearly touching.

"Sarcasm is a sign of stupidity," he sneered.

"Hey, it's not my fault you're too simple to understand cynicism."

He glowered, radiating fury. "Understand this, whore."

The tip of the knife pressed against her stomach, pushing so slowly that it felt like she was tearing apart to open a space for the blade. She cried out, low and guttural; a sound that built and increased to a high pitched shriek that crescendoed as he yanked the knife out of her.

Her chest heaved as she struggled to contain her cries, "I am going to kill you."

"I think you have it backwards."

He drew back the knife again, aiming to give her a matching wound on the other side of her stomach when the barn door burst inward. A dark haired man charged in, swinging iron bolt cutters and smashing it into the demon's face. The demon stumbled away from Gwen, yelling and grabbing at his smoking face. The man, bearded and looking so very familiar, began to chant an exorcism as he used the bolt cutters to snip through the thick chains like they were twine. Gwen's arms fell forward, pain searing through her shoulder.

"Do I know you?" Her brows furrowed, confusion marring her expression.

"Go" was the only reply.

The demon, growling and gnashing, was getting to his feet. The man placed a light hand on her back, gently urging her toward the open door.

"I can help!" She said to the man as he pulled out a flask of holy water and opened it, flicking the liquid at the demon.

The demon roared, rearing back as if he was being sprinkled with acid. The man paused his Latin to command, "You don't have time. _Now_, girl. _Go_!"

Gwen spun, racing from the barn and into a heavily wooded area. It was a slow run through overgrown underbrush and roots that threatened to send her flying. Where was the road? How did she even know she was going in the right direction? For all she knew, she was getting herself hopelessly lost.

Just when she began to think she should turn around, she stumbled out onto the paved road. Her head swiveled left then right, wondering which way would fastest lead her to town. She turned right and started walking, head swimming with questions. How far could she make it before collapsing? Who was that man? How had he found her? Why would he risk his life for a stranger? Which of them would be the victor, and would that victor then come after her?

She walked for a few minutes, no street lamps to light her way. The dark was a blanket that surrounded, pressing in on all sides, filled with all the numerous dangers a hunter could envision. Her hands trembled, feet moving mechanically one in front of the other. The curve in the road a ways ahead began to glow as a vehicle approached.

When the headlights rounded the bend, she had come to a stop in the middle of the road. The car came to a stop and the driver's door opened, a figure stepping out.

"Gwen!"

Dean's voice. Relief washed through her entire body, wiping out the adrenaline that had been keeping her going. Though the Impala's headlights were still illuminating, the world began to dim. She could feel herself swaying; starting to drop. The last thing she saw was Dean running towards her.


	24. Chapter 24

The first thing of which she was aware was a peace that filled her entire being. It didn't matter what she had just been through; didn't matter where she was going. In that moment, the only thing that mattered was that she was safe. Second came the sensation of lying down in a car, then gentle fingers brushing over her scalp. Her head was resting on something, though she couldn't yet make out what. A voice sounded, though she couldn't make out the words.

When a second voice responded, it was closer and more clear. Dean was saying, "Just drive faster, Sammy."

He sounded worried. She could almost hear the furrowed brows and panicked eyes in his voice. That's when the realization hit that he was in the back seat with her, cradling her head in his lap and gently raking his fingers through her hair. It was a struggle to open her eyes and took longer than she expected. It wasn't until the car had parked and Sam was opening the door for them that she finally blinked her eyes open.

Dean lifted her gently, refusing Sam's offer of help as he stepped out. He had her nestled in his arms like a baby, supporting her head and carrying her weight as easily as he would a newborn's. She stared up at him, amazed at the pain etched in his expression; the fear and concern and anxiety that carved his features.

They crossed the threshold into the brothers' motel room, Dean noticing she was awake as he placed her onto a bed. "Gwen! Are you ok?!"

She nodded weakly, wondering how much blood she had lost as she warily looked over her wounds, "I'll survive."

"What the hell happened?" Sam asked as he dug out their heavily packed first aid kit.

A groan broke free when she tried to sit up, Dean's hands flying to her shoulders to keep her lying down. Of course that only made her cry out in pain.

She looked from one to the other, trying to hide the wince, "I dislocated my shoulder."

"Oh shit." Dean pulled back his hands as if they had been burned. "I'm sorry."

Her head shook. "You didn't know. Sam, can you help me out?"

Sam looked to his brother, who turned his head away. Nodding as he brought the first aid kit over to the bed, he sat down and pulled out a needle. "Just let me take care of these wounds first."

Dean cleared his throat and stepped away, running his palm over the top of his head. "You wanna tell us what the hell you were doing?"

There was no sign of her usual temper. Perhaps because of the experience of being tortured, maybe instead because she had grown so close to the two of them, she heard the question as concern and not anger.

She inhaled through her teeth as Sam poured whiskey over the deepest wound, the stab to her stomach, then took the bottle and tipped it up to her lips. After a few gulps, she spoke. "I was in a bar. Heard a couple guys talking about the string of missing persons in Wheatland. They mentioned that the cops had no clue; how strange it was that there was so much time in between cases. I figured it was just people wanting to get out of a small town. But then I started wondering 'What if it really is something?' so I asked one of them to give me a lift. I figured I could get it checked out and come up with a plan with you guys in the morning if I found anything."

"In the middle of the night?" Dean turned to stare at her pointedly, his jaw flexing.

"I knew I wasn't going to sleep. I guess I just wanted to save some time in the morning by already knowing if it was a job or not."

"How about from now on we check in with each other before leaving town?" Sam didn't look up from the stitches.

"Yeah, sounds like a perfect plan to me." Gwen grimaced as the needle dove in and out of her skin.

Dean was tense as marble. There was a fire in his eyes, a danger in his expression. Gwen knew it wasn't directed at her, and yet she felt so guilty that he was upset. She watched him pace across the room. When he turned around at the end of the room, he caught her eyes and paused.

She knew his head was a tumultuous jumble of thoughts. With a sigh she waved her hand. "Go ahead."

He didn't speak at first. Perhaps because he wasn't sure if the chaos in his head was meant to be shared. But she _had_ given him permission, hadn't she?

He scowled. "How in the hell does it ever make sense to you to take off in the middle of the night? Leaving us with no idea where you are or what you're doing. Hell, you could have just caught a ride with the wrong person. You trust these guys you've never met. Do you have a death wish?"

"I trust myself. Spent the last five years with only me to rely on. I know how to handle a couple guys." There was no trace of anger in her tone. Just a simple explanation, one that Dean did not accept. "Maybe so. But it wasn't just a couple guys, Gwen. You walked into a situation knowing nothing about what was going on. That demon would have killed you."

"I know."

"You don't have to do this shit anymore. We're supposed to be a team. So why are you taking off in the middle of the night?"

Her voice was small. "I knew you were tired."

"_Tired_?!" He exploded. "You think a few hours of sleep are more important to me than you are?"

She froze. Sam looked across the room at his brother, who turned and slammed an open palm on the wall. Dean turned around again, barely controlled rage bubbling within.

"Do you have any idea what it's like to wake up and find out that someone you care about is missing? That you have no idea where they are or how to find them? And, oh yeah, they're facing down a _demon_. We almost lost you, Gwen. What do you think that would have done to Sam? To me? … It's bad enough seeing this," he gestured to her battered body, "knowing what he did. But if he'd killed … And all because you think that sleep is more important to us than you are?"

"I'm sorry." Gwen said quietly. "It won't happen again."

"You're damn right it won't."

Sam waited a beat before clearing his throat to clear the air. "How did you get away?"

For a moment it was like she hadn't heard him. Her eyes were still locked on Dean's, searching for something she dared not believe existed. Dean's frustration was nothing more than what he would feel for Sam, wasn't it? After all, it's not like she actually had feelings for him. So no matter what he said, there was nothing more under his words. They were friends. A team, like he'd said. That's all.

She finally tore her gaze away from Dean and looked at Sam. "It's the craziest thing, actually. This guy showed up out of nowhere. In, like, perfect timing too. I was about to get a matching stab wound on the other side of my stomach and the barn doors just burst open. The guy comes running in, saying an exorcism. Smashed iron bolt cutters into the demon's face, cuts the chain, and tells me to go. I told him I could help, but he just sent me running. I don't even know if he survived..."

Sam trimmed the last stitch and began to bandage the rest of the cuts. "You don't know this guy?"

Her head shook, "He looked really familiar, but I could swear I've never seen him before."

"How did he know you were in trouble? Or how to find you?" Dean walked over to them.

"Never got the chance to find out."

Sam looked up at Dean. "What is going on?"

"I don't know. But I say we find that barn in the morning."

As soon as the bandaging was finished, Sam looked to Dean again. "A little help?"

Dean didn't speak. His eyes were hard, teeth ground together firmly. He sat behind her, one arm carefully wound around her ribs and the other placed on her uninjured shoulder, his hand lightly resting on her neck. Sam gripped her left arm carefully.

"You ready?" Sam asked her.

She nodded, leaning back against Dean and squeezing her eyes closed. For a moment all she felt was the warmth that radiated from every square inch of Dean's skin. She breathed deeply, all the scents that made up his unique aroma meeting her nose. The smell of his skin mixed with the slightest scent of leather; a trace of that morning's deodorant still clinging to him; the pleasant cottony smell of his laundry detergent. As she inhaled, her brain began to store it all; creating a solid memory of the feeling of being held in his arms. Her heart was pounding at his nearness. This was a moment she would always remember fond -

"Ahh!" she shrieked when Sam pulled, popping her arm back into its socket.

The pain was over in a second. She began to slowly rotate her arm and found that movement no longer hurt. Sam stood as Dean released his hold.

"Thanks, guys."

"No problem." Sam began picking up the first aid supplies, tucking them back into the kit neatly.

Dean rose from the bed. "Are you going to be ok?"

"Oh, yeah." Gwen smiled. "I'm a tough old lady. I'll be fine."

She yawned as she lay back, stretching her arm toward the ceiling and slowly moving it back toward the headboard and forward until it touched the bed. She did this a few times to ensure full mobility.

Sam crossed the room to put the first aid kit away. Dean rubbed his face, feeling the weight of exhaustion. As he dropped his hand from his face, Sam approached.

"I don't know about you, but I think I could use some sleep." Sam yawned.

"Yeah. We'll get a couple hours, head to Wheatland in the morning. Start where we found her and hopefully find that barn before long. Gwen, you think you remember how to get there?"

The brothers looked to the bed where she lay to find her already sleeping. Sam shook his head, his voice dropping lower so as not to disturb her. "She must be wiped."

"Well I hear torture will do that to you." Dean's jaw flexed.

Sam looked to his brother, "She's ok, Dean. She's safe."

"Yeah but she almost wasn't. What if that guy hadn't shown up, Sammy? What if her call didn't wake you? What if -"

"None of that happened. She's here, she's patched up, and she's going to be fine."

Dean sighed. He paused, staring at her peaceful form a moment. "We nearly lost her, Sammy."

"I know." Sam's whisper was husky. "But we didn't."

There were a million things Dean wanted to say. He wanted to rage about the demon that dared to touch her, to make Sam promise that nothing like this would happen again, to speak all the blame that roiled in his head. It didn't matter that there was literally nothing he could have done to prevent it from happening. Gwen had been tortured by a demon. And Dean blamed no one but himself. If only he'd been with her. At the very least he could have taken her place.

"Looks like we have another demon to add to the list."

Sam nodded in response. They'd spent over 20 years looking for the monster that killed their mother. The one that killed Jess. They'd sworn they would not stop until whatever it was was wiped off the face of the planet. When they met Gwen, they added the demon that had killed her family to their vendetta. Now they had a list growing.

"But there's nothing we can do about them tonight."

It was Dean's turn to nod then, "You take my bed, since she's in yours. I'll sleep in that armchair."

"Dean, we've shared beds before."

"Sammy, you're my brother and I love you. But I'm not willing to be kicked all night. Especially not when you've grown into a Sasquatch. It was bad enough when you were 7."

Sam chuckled and lightly punched Dean's arm. They settled themselves quickly, Sam drifting to sleep the second his head hit the pillow. Dean, on the other hand, sat upright in the chair, watching over the two of them. He had no intention of sleeping. Not when they didn't know if the demon was actually gone or not.


	25. Chapter 25

When Gwen woke the following morning, it took a minute to get her bearings and remember why she was in so much pain. She rubbed her eyes warily before looking over at the other bed, startled to see Sam sprawled beneath the covers. What was he doing in her room?

_Oh wait,_ she thought. _I'm in his room. But, then … where's Dean?_

Sitting up slowly to ease the strain on her stitches, chocolate brown eyes surveyed the motel room, stopping on Dean's slumped form. He was sitting in an arm chair placed squarely in front of the door. One arm rested on his chest, rising and falling slowly with each breath. The other hand cupped his cheek, propped up on one arm of the chair. For the first time, he looked peaceful. There was no weight hanging from his brow, no stress steeped around his eyes. For once, there was no devil-may-care mask plastered to his features. It was disarming to see him this way. Usually they each hid behind sass and comedy, keeping all signs of true emotion buried. Well, any emotion other than anger, that is. Neither Gwen nor Dean had a problem expressing their anger.

At that moment there was nothing but sweet peace shown on his face. It was like seeing him in a completely new light. Dean was always so focused on saving everyone else, on protecting the world from monsters. Did he even realize that he needed protecting too? Did he know that this gentle innocence existed beneath the macho facade? In the quiet morning light she saw a completely different Dean. This Dean defined "precious." Not a word Gwen had ever thought in reference to him before. But there he was, precious as a child who'd succumbed to the call of sleep wherever he'd happened to be when it struck. She knew then that she would spend the rest of her days protecting this little corner of innocence within him.

No. That's not right. Gwen got to her feet and padded to the bathroom quietly. What the hell was she thinking? It was bad enough the way her heart was thudding in her chest when he'd held her last night. Now here she was, waxing poetic while watching him sleep? They'd known each other just over a week!What the fuck was wrong with her?

She'd sworn this wouldn't happen. Sam and Dean were her friends. Her partners. They weren't potential … whatever. "_You let emotions get involved, and you find yourself alone again_," she reminded herself mentally. "_Fuck whoever you want, but those two are off-limits. Squash this stupid little crush or whatever the hell it is. Just forget about it. Because you and Dean? Not happening. Ever._"


	26. Chapter 26

There was nothing to be found in the old barn. All traces of evidence were wiped away by the time they finally got to it. Not even a scrap of straw was left on the floor. There was no sign as to who wound up walking away: the demon or the hunter? As the week progressed, Gwen began to withdraw. She avoided any kind of alone time with Dean, and often went for walks or "grocery" shopping with Sam. It wasn't on purpose – more her subconscious way of putting an end to her growing attraction for Dean.

He didn't see it that way, of course. Now, more than ever, Dean believed the two were interested in each other. He didn't say a word about it, though, so neither Sam nor Gwen realized that every time they closed a hotel door leaving Dean behind, it was one more needle to the heart.

When all three of them were together, Gwen was quiet. Still as sarcastic as ever, but more reserved than she had been. And as unlikely as it had seemed, she began to seek out one night stands even more. Each night she would be in a bar, presenting herself as the fun-loving party girl without a care in the world.

That is, until the night Sam vanished.

They'd caught wind of a disappearance in Hibbing, Minnesota. Sam and Dean dressed as state sheriffs so Gwen had worn a deputy-in-training outfit to question the young witness. After some particularly "witty" banter between Dean and the boy, Evan, about godzilla movies, they finished up their questions and headed out to a local bar, Kuegel's Keg. Immediately upon entering, Gwen peeled off from the two of them and headed straight for the bar, where she was quickly joined by a pair of biker boys.

She giggled and joked and sipped on free drinks, basking in attention. At one point she saw Sam wave from across the room and she raised a hand in response – her code for finding her own way back to the motel. So when Dean rushed up to her minutes later saying he couldn't find Sam, Gwen had raced away from the guys and out into the parking lot. Sam was gone.

They went to file a missing person's report. Dean used his state sheriff badge to try and coax the deputy to work a little harder. Both claimed to be Sam's cousins.

"Samuel Winchester." Kathleen read aloud. "So you know that his brother, Dean Winchester, died in St. Louis. And, uh, was suspected of murder."

Dean tried to look nonchalant, "Yeah, Dean. Kind of the black sheep of the family. Handsome, though."

"Also incredibly full of himself." Gwen looked pointedly at him.

Dean made a poor attempt at a laugh and turned back to the deputy. It was his sweet talking that allowed them to travel with her. Even after she caught him in his lie about being a sheriff. Kathleen agreed to continue looking for Sam because she had once lost her own brother, as she later revealed to the pair. When they found a turn off from the main road, she wanted the two civilians to stay at the car. They refused, of course. Kathleen asked that they promise not to get involved and let her handle everything, which they did.

"Shake on it." She demanded, holding her hand out to Dean. He gripped her hand to shake, and she clicked a handcuff on his arm.

"Oh, come on." Dean grumbled.

Kathleen took Gwen's hand next and when she looked down, she found herself handcuffed to him. Of course. Because why the fuck not?

"Let's go, you two." Kathleen gestured toward the road and they walked back to the car. She unlocked Gwen's cuff and slipped it through the handle of the driver's door, then clicked it back onto her wrist and started walking away.

"This is ridiculous. Kathleen, I really think you're going to need our help!" Dean called after her.

"I'll manage. Thank you." She locked the door and walked away.

He patted at his pockets, "I gotta start carrying paper clips."

Gwen rolled her eyes, fingers ducking into her hair and withdrawing a bobby pin, holding it up for him to see. She tucked the end between her teeth, pulling the protective blob of plastic off the metal before bending it open and sticking it into the lock.

"You got another one of those?"

"Really? You can't wait two seconds?" she smirked as the cuff clicked open.

Dean pulled the loose cuff through the handle, taking the offered pin and setting to work. It took a few minutes to creep through the woods, past a house and into a barn on the back of the property. Inside they found Sam and Kathleen in cages with electronic locks. Dean went to find the key to unlock the electric panel while Gwen stayed in the barn to see if there was another way to open the cages.

"You're telling me that some guy got the drop on you?" Gwen raised a brow at Sam while looking around the barn.

"It happens. What, you think you would have done better?"

She chuckled. A few minutes later, a dirty hick came into the barn with a rifle. Gwen slowly circled behind him as he unlocked Sam's cage and walked over to open it. The door creaked open and he raised the gun. Gwen rushed forward and launched herself onto his back as Sam drove his shoulder into the man's stomach. The gun went off in the struggle, but they got him down quickly. When Sam went to shoot him, the gun jammed. They shoved the redneck into the cage and locked it, then let Kathleen out.

They didn't have long before two more men came into the barn. The three of them were able to take them out quickly. Gwen headed for the house once a second man was caged, the third lying on the ground under the watchful eye of Kathleen's gun.

She met Dean in front of the house, "What happened to you?"

"Ah, this girl caught me sneaking around. Told her dad, who nearly melted my eye with a red hot poker. Nothing I couldn't handle."

Sam and Kathleen joined them shortly. She called in to the station after telling them that the father of the group had been shot while trying to escape.

"So, state police and the FBI are gonna be here within the hour. They're gonna wanna talk to you. I suggest that you're both long gone by then."

Dean smiled, "Thanks. Hey, listen, I don't mean to press our luck, but we're kind of in the middle of nowhere. Think we could catch a ride?"

"Start walking." She answered, "Duck if you see a squad car."

"Sounds great to me," said Sam. "Thanks."

"You know, I can't even say that was the worst thing I've done around Valentine's Day." Gwen snorted, "I've had some pretty bad V-Day dates."

They laughed and the trio started down the private drive back towards the main road. They were quiet for a moment when Dean spoke, "Never do that again."

"Do what?" asked Sam.

"Go missin' like that."

Sam laughed, "You were worried about me."

"Panicked." Chimed in Gwen. "Completely terrified."

"All I'm saying is, you vanish like that again, I'm not looking for you."

Gwen rolled her eyes, "Right. I believe that for a second."

"I'm not." Dean insisted.

Sam chuckled. "So, you got sidelined by a thirteen year old girl, huh?"

"Oh, shut up."

"Just saying. Getting rusty there, kiddo."

Dean snickered, "Shut up."

Sam laughed. Gwen shook her head, "You just gotta take a page from my book, Dean. Let my history be a lesson to you. Never trust a little girl."


	27. Chapter 27

Her back was to the door, one hand blindly tapping to find the unlocked handle. The lips pressed to hers tasted of whiskey, large hands gripping her hips and pulling her closer. Finding the handle, she twisted and they stumbled in, Gwen giggling against his mouth. She flicked on the light and pushed the door closed. He walked her backwards until she was trapped between him and the wall, his hands ducking under her shirt and gliding over the silk of her bra.

Her fingers dove into black locks, mouth drinking in his frenzied kisses. Both were breathing heavily when she asked, "Do you have a condom?"

"Mm mm." He denied while bending to kiss her neck.

One hand lightly pushed against his chest. "Mmmm, good thing I'm always prepared," she grinned.

She slipped out from between him and the wall, moving to the bag at the side of the motel bed. He turned to watch her, flushed from excitement.

"Actually … I'm allergic to latex."

"Not a problem." She bent down and rummaged through the bag, finally withdrawing a small box, "I keep lambskin condoms for just that reason."

"Oh … uh," he blinked at the box, shifting from side to side, "I'm, um, vegan."

She raised a brow, amatory feelings slipping away, "Well, sorry, Alex. I've got a rule. No wrap, no tap."

"Aw, come on, baby." He approached seductively, long fingers curving around her hips again, "Just one time isn't going to hurt anything. I promise."

Dark brows began to furrow, "It's time for you to go."

"Shhhh." His head bent, lips pressing to hers.

She scowled, shoving him backwards. "Get out."

He chuckled, brown eyes dancing. "We both know you don't really want me to do that."

"What I don't want is to get pregnant. Or some disgusting disease. Cuz if you're willing to fuck me the night you met me without any protection, I'm going to guess that you've done it before with who knows how many skanks."

He stepped towards her, grabbing her wrist and pulling her close. "Just relax."

"Get off me." Gwen yanked on her wrist, but his grip only tightened. He pulled her closer, into his body. When he bent to kiss her again, her knee snapped up and connected between his legs. A groan erupted and he doubled over just as she thrust up her hand, smashing the heel of her palm into his nose.

Alex yelped, hands covering the lower half of his face. "You fucking psycho!"

She whirled, bending down to her bag and spinning to raise a gun at him. His eyes widened and he froze, staring at her.

"I said _get out_." The weapon didn't waver in the slightest.

"I knew you were a psychotic bitch."

She removed the safety and Alex scrambled to the door, ripping it open and running outside. Gwen stared at the open door, willing him to try to come back so she could shoot him in his stupid face. "_Bastard._"

She flicked the safety back on as she lowered the gun, hands shaking with fury. Her hand was unwilling to release its grip, and for a moment she considered following him. Instead, she forced herself to put the gun back and walk out the door, slamming it behind her.

Two doors down was the Winchesters' room. Gwen strode down and rapped on the door. When it opened, she saw Sam looking down at her confused.

"I need to take a walk. Or something. Because I'm about ready to shoot someone."

"Ok ..." Sam glanced back into the room just before Dean appeared next to him at the door.

"What's going on?"

"Nothing." Gwen snapped.

The brothers exchanged a look as Sam said, "Uh, I guess we're going for a walk?"

"Is everything ok?" Dean asked as he stepped closer to the door.

Gwen raised a hand, glowering at him. "Just. Sam."

Dean's brows furrowed but he raised his hands in acquiescence, "Whatever you need, Gwen."

"_God_, Dean, you are _such_ an _asshole_." She whirled, stomping away from them.

Dean looked to Sam, "What did _I_ do?"

Sam shrugged helplessly, gesturing in her direction before following after her. His long legs allowed him to catch up quickly. "Hey, wait up. What's going on?"

"What is wrong with men?" She spun to face him, her eyes boring into his.

His mouth opened and closed, brain scrambling to find an answer.

"Why is it that what they want is more important than women want? Our needs don't matter. Our thoughts don't matter. We're just here to cater to the whims of men." Words spewed forth in a flurry of emotion, hands curled into fists that trembled as nails bit into her palms.

"I don't," he stared at her in shock. "Gwen, I don't know any guys like that."

"Well I've seen more than my fair share." She folded her arms across her torso, hands still balled into fists.

Sam paused a moment, letting her take a few breaths in hopes it would calm her somewhat. "What happened?"

She drew a breath, letting it out slowly. "I met this guy, Alex, at Bordello Bar. We hit it off, came back to the motel. And things … progressed. So I asked him for a condom. He says he's allergic to latex. I tell him I have lambskin condoms. He decides he's vegan. So I tell him to leave. No glove, no love, right? Well, not to this guy. Oh no. He doesn't want to leave. He wants sex. And for some inane reason, he thinks his desires are more important than mine. It doesn't matter that I don't want to get pregnant or an std, Alex wants sex. So Alex tries to get it. I kneed him in the groin and broke his nose. And he starts screeching that I'm a psycho bitch. Still not fucking leaving my room like I told him to. So I pull out my glock and he finally gets the picture. Bye bye, Alex, see ya never.

"I don't know, Sam, is it me? Am I psychotic to think that I might have the right to decide when I fuck? Or with whom? Does it make me a bitch to have a footnote that includes protection in the 'contract' between me and whatever guy it is? I am so fucking sick of sleazeball dicks whose pea brains can't see anything beyond what their inner caveman wants."

Sam was quiet as he digested what she had said. Finally he spoke, "Feel better?"

"No." she replied sulkily. Her rage had ebbed in those few silent moments.

He took a breath, "I'm sorry, Gwen. That you've dealt with guys like that. … But like I said, I don't know anyone like that. And that includes Dean."

Gwen sighed. "Yeah, I know."

"So what was up with earlier?"

"I really don't want to talk about it."

"Doesn't matter. I know what it was about."

"No. You really don't."

"Yeah." he grinned. "I really do."

She scowled at him, lips pulled tight. "Shut up, Sam."

"Why won't you talk about this, Gwen?" Sam gestured with one hand as he spoke. "I mean, do you think I'm blind or something? Do you think I can't see the way you look at him when you think no one's watching?"

"Shut up, Sam." Her temper could be heard in her tone.

"No. Because I know how you feel about him, Gwen. I know why you're constantly avoiding being alone with him, but have no problem being alone with me. And I know why you're angry that all the jerks out there just don't cut it for you anymore."

"Sam," she warned.

"Just admit it, Gwen. You like him. There's nothing wrong with that."

"You're crazy."

"No, _you're_ crazy if you think that I can't read you like an open book. You're practically my little sister, Gwen. I know how you think."

"I'm older than you," she grumbled.

"And I'm taller than you. Are we done stating facts now? Or can I state another one: you are nuts about him."

Her arms tightened around her stomach and she began to shift from one foot to the other. Dark eyes darted from the ground to Sam and back. She chewed her bottom lip a moment before quietly saying, "I told you I didn't want to talk about this."

"I know. But I just don't understand. Why did you call him an asshole when we both know the way you feel about him?"

"I was pissed off, Sam! Sue me."

"You were pissed at the douche bags that refuse to honor what you want. The opposite of what Dean was doing."

"Exactly!" She exploded. "He gave me exactly what I needed in that moment. Just like he's done since I've known him, except for a few bonehead incidents. Every time I turn around, there he is with a joke or a smile or exactly what I need at any given time. I'm fighting tooth and nail not to fall for him and there he goes, promising to give me whatever I need."

"But why?"

"Why do I like him? I don't know, Sam, I've just focused on ignoring it."

"No, why do you fight it?"

The question took her by surprise. She thought a moment, then spoke haltingly, "Every single person I have interacted with in the past five years has only seen a mask. There was never a time that I wasn't acting for someone's benefit. Playing the cop, the journalist, the carefree party girl when I felt like getting laid. I switched masks so often, I was starting to forget who I was. I'd never had a case that lasted as long as that gig in Pennsylvania. Cherry the stripper was starting to replace Gwen, even when I was alone...

"And then you two walked in, and I had a reason to be myself again. You were hunters, so I didn't have to hide what I did. You guys never judged me or needed me to be anything other than just me. I was finally able to get back in touch with who I really am because of you both. So when I first noticed my attraction for Dean, I panicked. … I've lost everyone. Anyone I ever cared about. And it destroyed me each and every time. My friends, my family. Everyone who has been a part of my life is gone now. In one way or another, they left me. So the thought of being with someone? To actually trust someone not only with my life, but with what's left of my heart? I can't … I can't do that, Sammy."

"You'd rather live your life alone, boning random guys you meet in the bar?"

"Sam."

"As the only one out of the three of us who's actually been in a relationship, why don't you take it from me? That whole 'loved and lost' thing? It's true."

"Really." She asked skeptically, "You'd go through it all again, watching Jess die just to 'get to love her one more time'?"

He drew a breath, wiping all levity from his tone, "Yes. I would. Because loving Jess? That was the best time of my life."

She looked at him with watery eyes. "I can't."

"Gwen, what do you have to lose? You know he's crazy about you."

"No he's not!"

"What? Of course he is! Do you realize that since we've met you, he hasn't even _looked_ at another woman? I have never seen my brother like that before."

Her cheeks flamed, head spinning. Finally, she muttered, "Shut up, Sam."

"You didn't even notice? He only has eyes for you."

"You're ridiculous."

"I am not. Seriously, I didn't know he could go this long without sex."

She flushed deeper, expression flustered.

He chuckled at her embarrassment, "You just can't admit when I'm right, can you?"

She withdrew a moment, then blurted, "Will you go get him for me? I want to apologize."

Sam stared at her with a grin, "Yeah, sure you do. But why do _I_ need to go and get him for you?"

"If I move, I'm going to run away." She said quietly.

Sam snorted, but walked back to his room anyways. Gwen let out the breath she had been holding and went back to shifting from foot to foot. She didn't notice him approaching until he was right before her.

"Sam said you 'wanted to see me'?" Dean's fingers rose in air quotes.

"I'm sorry, Dean." She spoke in a rush. "I shouldn't have called you an asshole. Especially when you were being so nice, so I'm sorry."

He blinked in the enveloping silence after her torrent of words. "Uh. Thank you? … You mind telling me exactly what it was I did to piss you off?"

"Nothing. You did nothing wrong. I was just in a really bad mood and I took it out on you."

"Ok. Whatever you want."

She grimaced and Dean gestured to her, "No, that. Right there. What is that? Am I really that unpleasant to be around?"

"What? No." Her eyes pinched together and she wondered how she could get out of this situation. "It's just been a long night."

"Well it's going to be a hell of a lot longer if you think you can wait me out."

She sighed. "You know what? Fine. Just remember that you're the one that started this conversation." She took a breath and forced herself to admit what she had been hiding. "I am … attracted to you."

He stared at her, unmoving, "You're what?"

"I'm falling for you, ok?"

"Thank God," he breathed, crossing the distance between them. Warm hands held her cheeks and he bent down, gently touching his lips to hers.

She met him with surprised but encouraging openness, her hands caressing over his stomach to stop on his sides. Dean's jaw moved, lips drawing her in and deepening the kiss. Fireworks shivered down their spines, igniting roiling flames and a spreading fire in their stomachs.

One thumb trailed over her cheek as he pulled away slowly, green eyes staring down into hers, "I have been crazy about you from the first second I saw you."

"I never would have guessed," she murmured dizzily.

He grinned and her knees went weak. They kissed again, both losing track of time. When they finally parted, neither wanted to leave the other. They decided to move into the privacy of Gwen's room, turning on a diluted-for-TV 90's chick flick. Dean complained, but Gwen claimed "my room, my rules" and dropped the remote onto the floor. When he tried to reach over her to get it, she squirmed and shuffled and leaned over him that she wound up cuddled half laying on his chest. He quickly gave up after that. She curled her body to his, giggling over the portrayal of high school. Within half an hour, Gwen had fallen asleep. Dean looked down at her, eyes tracing over every curve of her face. He smiled, wondering if just maybe he would wake in the morning to find it all to be a dream.


	28. Chapter 28

Gwen woke first the following morning, a soft smile alighting the moment she saw Dean's sleeping form next to her. Her brain replayed the previous evening, starting with Alex-the-dickhead and ending curled against Dean's side. She never would have guessed that Dean felt the same for her as she did for him. She'd spent so much energy burying her attraction and avoiding him that she'd been blinded to all the signs. Or maybe she'd noticed a few but couldn't bear the thought that she might be wrong and so she ignored them; convinced herself that there was nothing there and it was all in her head.

But here he was, lying next to her. Could this really be happening?

He began to stir, rolling away from her onto his back before blearily opening his eyes and blinking slowly. Yawning softly, he turned his head and noticed her watching him. He smiled. "Good morning."

"Morning," she replied with a smile of her own, eyes dancing merrily. "You know, I've never done that before."

One brow arched up, "Did something happen while I was sleeping?" Fingers plucked up the sheet, green eyes flicking to look beneath. "Not that I'm complaining. Well, maybe a little. I mean, if _something_ is going to be happening, I'd like to be awake for it."

A short laugh burst from her, even as she shook her head. "Just what are you implying, Winchester? You think I'm the type of girl to take advantage?"

He looked at her innocently before a wicked smirk altered his expression. "One can hope."

She laughed again, slapping his arm playfully, "Nothing happened, perv. That's not what I was talking about. I just meant that I'd never woken up with someone before. And certainly not someone who I hadn't slept with."

"Actually, I haven't either. Woken up next to someone, I mean. … But we could always fix that second part..."

Her eyes rolled before she turned over to climb from the bed, "Spoken like a true perv."

He caught her wrist, pulling her just enough so that she tumbled against him. His other arm wound behind her, pulling her close. "You're just going to have to forgive my perverted behavior. Especially when it's your fault."

"_My_ fault?" She raised her eyebrows incredulously. "You've got to be kidding, Dean. How can you possibly blame me?"

"How can I not? Seriously, have you seen yourself?"

She rolled her eyes again, to which he responded by crushing his body against hers, the evidence of his lust pressing into her thigh. Her body instantly responded with heat, heart rate picking up, breath quickening at the tightening in her core. Mouth dry, she tried to swallow. Her eyes were locked with his, and she was lost in his intense green gaze.

When he spoke again, his voice was low and longing. "You're everything I've ever wanted in every way imaginable. I spent weeks dreaming that one day you could be mine, imagining the taste of your lips, and yes, envisioning just how amazing it would feel to lose myself inside you. … Now I've held you in my arms. I've tasted the sweetness of your kisses. And still I want you so badly I can't think of anything else. Can you really fault me for being so wrapped up in you?"

Gwen drew a shaky breath, eyes wide from the severity of his admission. Nerves fluttered in her stomach as she scrambled for the right words to say. Lower lip caught between her teeth, a shiver ran down her spine as she fought to control her breathing. "I have wanted you from the moment you walked into the Foxxy Lady."

A slow smile broke out over his features and he kissed her like he was a drowning man and she were oxygen. Her heart pounded when his hand brushed down her back, curving over her ass and pulling her even tighter against himself. She lost herself for a moment when lust clouded thinking, pushing out everything except desire.

Not even a minute had passed when she came back to herself, pulling back to break the kiss. They were both panting, gazes glassy and filled with arousal. "Dean, wait."

It took every ounce of willpower he had to not suck her bottom lip into his mouth and nibble until she moaned. It had been over a month since he'd last had sex, longer than he'd ever gone before. But it wasn't just pent up frustration that had his fingers itching to slide into her folds. Everything about her was like an aphrodisiac to him. From her slightly swollen, heavily kissed mouth to the half-lidded gaze burning with desire to the sleep mussed chocolate locks that tumbled about her face so seductively. He'd wanted her for so long, and here she was in his arms.

"I just," she paused, almost afraid to finish her thought. "I need for this to be different."

His lust-addled brain didn't catch her meaning. "What?"

She tried to scoot away from him, to draw some cool air into the charged space between them, but his hold didn't relax and she wasn't able to move far. A deep breath moved through her lungs, fighting to slow the rapid pulse. "We're not exactly known for having an amazing track record with relationships."

"And that's why this is different?"

She shook her head, "No, I need …" Another deep breath, "I don't want to ever feel like just another girl to you."

Dean blinked in confusion, "That's not possible."

"And I don't want you to ever feel like just another guy to me."

He pushed himself up onto one elbow and she sat up, shifting so that she faced him but had managed to squeeze a bit of space between them. Taking a moment to breathe, she felt her heartbeat begin to even out, "The past however many years have been about one night stands and 'just passing through' and excuses to slip out in the middle of the night. For the both of us. And I just … I can't bear the thought that it could feel like that between us, even for a second."

"Gwen, what I feel for you … there's nothing 'one night' about it."

"No, I get that. I do. Because I feel the same way about you. But I'm just afraid -"

"You want to wait," he interrupted.

She paused, eyes downcast. "No … but yeah. I guess I just want to make sure that everything about this is different than what we've experienced before."

Dean gently gripped her chin between finger and thumb, forcing her to meet his eyes. "I've waited 27 years for you. And if you need me to wait longer so you can feel completely comfortable, I would happily wait another 27 years. As long as I can be with you, I'll be the happiest man on earth."

Tears flooded her eyes as he gently brushed his lips against hers. How had she gotten so lucky?

"You're not … gonna wait 27 years are you?"

She burst into peals of laughter, shaking her head. A breath whooshed from him, filled with relief. It only made her giggle more. He kissed her again, wanting nothing more than to spend the rest of his days wrapped up in her. Except that wasn't going to work during this whole "waiting" thing.

His throat cleared when he pulled away. "I, uh … I'm just gonna -"

He rolled out of the bed, muttering to himself as he padded towards the bathroom, "Cold shower."

Gwen couldn't stop the giggles that followed behind him.


	29. Chapter 29

She had just finished pulling on a royal purple shirt with ruffled cap sleeves over black jeans when a rapping on the door drew her across the room. Gwen pulled it open to see Sam towering in the doorway, a self-satisfied smirk curved below dancing blue eyes. Pink lips pulled to the side and she stared up at him, daring him to make a comment.

Of course, Sam was more than happy to oblige. He held two steaming cups of coffee out to her before breaking the silence with a smug tone. "Dean didn't come home last night."

"He didn't?" she feigned surprise, deciding in that instant to have a little fun at Sam's expense. "After we talked, he took off. I thought he was going back to your room."

His eyebrows drew together. "Wait, what?"

Gwen took a sip of her coffee and nodded. "We had this awful fight. He blew up at me, saying he couldn't take my attitude anymore. Something about how me calling him an ass was the last straw, or something."

Sam stared at her a moment before shaking his head. "Nah. I don't believe you."

"I'm serious! We need to go find him. What if he got hurt? What if some monster has him trapped somewhere?"

"Yeah right, Gwen. Then who's in your shower?" His smug grin returned.

She glanced over her shoulder as the water shut off in the bathroom. "Mac, I think. He's the janitor here? Or maybe the handyman. I don't know. … When Dean left, I needed to get him out of my head. Mac was the first guy I saw."

He paused, unsure if he should believe her or not. "You're not lying to me?"

"Sammy, would I lie about something like this?"

Before he could answer, the door opened and Dean walked into the room with only a towel wrapped around his waist. Sam looked down at Gwen with a frown. "Apparently you would."

She returned his frown with a grin, eyes crinkling. "You were asking for it."

"Asking for what?" Dean walked toward them and Gwen had to force herself not to look his way. One glance at his chiseled abs when he'd stepped out of the bathroom and she'd nearly turned into a horny, drooling mess. If she wanted to avoid jumping him while Sam was in the room, she was going to have to keep her eyes pointed elsewhere. How in the hell was she supposed to "wait" when he looked like a god?

"Gwen thinks it's funny to suggest you're being eaten by a creature."

"What?" Dean stared at Sam in confusion.

"Sam decided to show up with coffee and a large serving of mockery. So I decided to mess with him." She said simply.

Dean nodded, accepting her answer without question and taking the other cup from Sam, sipping at the steaming beverage. "Sounds about right."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Whatever, Gwen. You're just pissed that I was right."

Now it was her turn and she rolled her eyes right back at him. "Oh please, Sammy."

"Why don't you just accept it?" He grinned. "I'm always right."

"Now that's a lie." Dean pointed at his younger brother with levity, a smirk on his face.

"Uh huh. And how long have I been telling you to ask her out?"

Dean scowled. "Shut up, Sam."

Gwen's dark eyes lit up at this new piece of information. "Really?"

"If you guys would have just listened to me, you'd have started dating weeks ago."

There was a pause, both Dean and Gwen digesting the word slowly. She cocked her head to the side. "Are we 'dating'?"

"Oh, please don't tell me that after all this time you two are trying to pretend like it's only about sex." Sam sighed.

"Seeing how we haven't _had_ sex yet, I'm going to say with certainty that's not what's happening," she retorted.

"_What_?" Blue eyes widened as Sam looked from one to the other. "You … haven't … ?"

"Yes, I know. Completely out of the ordinary for a couple of sluts, huh?" She crossed her arms and stared him down.

"That's not what I …"

"Yeah, it was, Sammy." The corner of Dean's mouth lifted in silent laughter.

"No it's n… Well, you have to admit it's surprising. Especially after you spent the night together."

"Spent the night sleeping." Gwen glanced over at Dean, and oh was that a mistake. Muscles moved beneath taut skin, sending her stomach tying into knots and a flood of heat shooting through her. His hair was still wet; a droplet slowly sliding down his neck and onto his chest, beckoning her eyes to follow as it trailed down his skin. She shoved the coffee cup back into her mouth as she forced her eyes back in Sam's direction, taking too big a swallow of the hot beverage and making them water.

"So, why would you _not_ be dating?" Sam tucked his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

"It's just a strange term to think about." Gwen spoke in a bit of a rush. "I haven't dated since high school. … And, besides, wouldn't we have had to actually go on a 'date' in order to be 'dating'?"

"Nope." Sam grinned, enjoying that he could make her squirm in embarrassment.

"Come on, Sammy." Dean pushed his brother out of the motel room. "I'm starving. And I need to get dressed. … And you're coming with me."

"Dude, I don't want to watch you get dressed. Pretty sure that's a job for Gwen."

Dean rolled his eyes and stepped forward, shoving Sam in the direction of their room. "And I'm pretty sure I'm gonna kick your ass if you don't shut the hell up."

Laughing to himself, Sam turned and headed for the room he'd slept in the night before. Dean shook his head, turning to face Gwen. And she was forced to take in the god-like form again. Before her mouth could run dry or her pulse could quicken, he bent and pressed his mouth to hers, drinking in the taste of her. He palmed her ass, pulling her close as the barest hint of a groan escaped his throat. The sound coiled like lust deep within her, forcing a whimper as response. She was suddenly aware that only a towel covered him and felt her skin heating with desire.

"Dean," she whispered, unable to trust her voice not to betray exactly what she was thinking.

"I said I would wait, and I will." His voice was low, rumbling quietly and drawing her desire even tighter, like an archer would a bowstring. He ducked his head, pressing his lips to her neck before whispering, "I never said I'd make it easy on you."

She shivered, adoring and hating him at the same time. Her body cried out for his touch, desperate to feel his hands on every square inch. Why were they waiting again? She couldn't think of a reason not to pull him back into the bedroom and onto the bed. She couldn't think of anything but him and the promise of ecstasy.

She could feel his mouth curving into a grin against her neck just before he shifted his head and gently grazed his teeth along her earlobe. A moan escaped, the ministrations of his teeth making her feel like her blood was about to boil.

He pulled away and placed a silly little kiss on the tip of her nose. "Be right back."

She trembled when he stepped away, her eyes immediately dropping to watch the curve of his ass as he sauntered down the walkway. Nibbling absently on her lower lip, she couldn't keep the sensual quality from her tone. "I hate you."

She could hear the grin in his response. "I know you do, honey."


	30. Chapter 30

Sam unfolded himself from the back seat once Dean had parked in the lot of a local diner. The trio trouped inside, settling into a vacant booth with Sam across from the other two. Dean stretched one arm across the cushion behind Gwen. His girl. For the first time, he could see himself willingly embracing monogamy. How could he ever want anyone else?

Sam couldn't wipe the grin from his face. He looked like the proverbial cat who ate the canary, "It's about time, you two."

"Shut up, Sammy." Gwen rolled her eyes, though she did slide closer to Dean, her body resting against his, "It's been three weeks."

"Really?" Dean sounded surprised. It felt like she had always been with them.

"Just about." she replied.

"Even so," Sam said, "If you'd have just listened to me -"

"Aw, shut up, Sammy." Dean shook his head but couldn't wipe the smile from his lips. He couldn't remember being this happy before.

Their waitress arrived then, with a flirtatious smile for Sam, and took their orders. The morning was filled with Sam's ribbing and Dean seeming to be unable to not be touching Gwen somehow. Legs brushed together, elbows rubbed; before the food came he had his arm around her shoulders. It was like he couldn't get enough of the feel of her; like he couldn't bear to have any distance between them. Sam watched his brother, picking up on all the differences in him that had never been there before. He didn't want to imagine what their lives would be like without Gwendolyn Lovet.

Gwen and Dean spent the rest of the morning ignoring Sam's teasing; the dancing blue eyes and taunts about how he was always right. Dean became secretive over lunch, leaving the two of them at the hotel to "run errands" on his own. When Gwen speculated what on earth he could be doing, Sam replied as if it was blatantly obvious, "He's date planning."

"What?"

"Dean's never been a 'dater'. Not even in high school. Whenever he asked out one of the townies, there was always an ulterior motive. He even 'dated' a couple girls at the same school at the same time if he felt like it. So when it comes to relationships, he's pretty clueless. But he wants everything to be perfect for you, so he's off trying to figure out how to make a date special."

"Did he tell you that?"

He gave her a look, "Please. I don't think _he_ even knows his reasonings for wanting to go all out for you. Do you really think he'd gush to me about his plans?"

"So you could be wrong, then."

"Nope."

"You have no evidence to support -"

"I know my brother, Gwen. Better than he knows himself sometimes. I'm not wrong. … Haven't you learned that already?"

"Oh, shut it, Sammy."

When Dean returned a few hours later, he wouldn't answer any questions, other than to confirm that he would be taking her out. No matter what tactic Gwen tried, he just smiled and told her she'd see later.

"Can you at least tell me what I should wear?"

His brows furrowed for a moment. "Wear what you want?"

Her lips curled in as she stifled a smirk. Poor boy had no clue when it came to the inner workings of women. "No … I mean … should I dress up? Like for a nice restaurant or dancing, or should I dress comfortable? Like for bowling or the movies or something casual."

"Oh. … Wear what you want."

Her head dropped as a sigh escaped. This was going to be more frustrating than she'd thought.

"No, really. There are no clothing requirements."

She looked up at him, one brow raised. "Uh huh."

"You could wear a ball gown, or a baseball uniform, or pajamas, or nothing at all. … Nothing is my vote." He grinned at her.

Her eyes rolled as a snort escaped. "Why does that not surprise me."

"Well it's not like I haven't already seen you naked." The argument made perfect sense in his head. There was not a single reason he could think of that she shouldn't forgo clothing. The memory of pale skin and soft curves filled his mind. His hands could practically feel naked flesh beneath them again.

"I was not naked."

"Honey, you were wearing a thong."

"And stilettos. That's not naked."

"I'm pretty sure shoes don't count."

"Underwear does though."

"You call that scrap of lace underwear?"

"Keep it up and you'll never see that scrap of lace again."

His mouth snapped closed and he mimed zipping his lips and locking them shut.

She giggled, arms winding behind his neck. "That's what I thought."

Nimble toes lifted her up so she could kiss him lightly. As his arms snaked around her, drawing her against his body, his lips parted and closed to alter her intended peck to a kiss that left her breathless. Did he know what he was doing to her? Was it purposeful, the way his every touch burned her to the core? He'd agreed to wait, but it was obvious that waiting was not something he would have chosen. Even the way he merely looked at her could spark the flame of attraction in her. There was little he could do that wouldn't start the ache of desire. So was it something he intended, or was she just _that_ attracted to him?

Was Dean purposely trying to turn her on, or did he not know what he was doing to her? Was it so simple as his just wanting to touch her whenever he could, now that he was finally able to? After all, Gwen had spent weeks aching for the touch of his hand on hers. She could spend eternity just kissing him and she'd be blissful. And there was no rule that said you couldn't want something as pure and simple as the gentle touch of a hand in hand as well as desperately wanting to rip someone's clothes off. It was certainly something Gwen could understand wholeheartedly. Why shouldn't Dean feel the same way?

Gwen murmured incomprehensibly when he finally broke the kiss. One hand lifted from her back, rising to brush above an eyebrow and back over one ear, tucking a stray strand of hair back with the others. A shiver ran down her spine and she couldn't help but wonder if her body would always react to him this way. Was it possible that years could pass and she would still tremble beneath the brush of his fingertips?

"So, um, … when are we leaving?" The words were just a hair above a whisper and she didn't dare open her eyes. One glimpse of those emerald greens and she would be a puddle on the floor.

"About an hour."

There was a slight stiffening of her form and her eyes popped open. "I need to get ready."

"What get ready?" The arm behind her back didn't loosen, holding her close in an attempt to keep her from leaving. "Just take off your clothes and you're set."

Lips pursed as she gave him a look. "Dean."

"What?"

She shook her head and sighed. "The 'magic' that you saw in the club took a lot of prep. … Besides, you had how many hours to get whatever ready. I just need one."

A mock pout pulled at his mouth. "But what will I do without you?"

"Go play with your brother." Brown eyes danced with levity as he made a show a sighing and grumbling. "I will see you in one hour."

"One hour. Not a minute more." He kissed her lightly and she left for her room.

She shaved her legs and applied a natural make-up look before selecting an outfit. By all rights, she could have tried on every outfit she owned. It was difficult to decide exactly what she wanted to wear for an evening filled with surprise events. Instead, she tried to keep it simple. Dark wash bootcut jeans and her favorite mid-calf black leather boots. A black layered lace tunic with a satin tie at her waist topped with a plumberry frolic jacket. The final addition was an Israeli prayer key protection amulet hanging from a snake chain.

"Five minutes to spare." She smirked at her reflection in the bathroom mirror before turning this way and that, wondering if just maybe she was missing something. Fingers tousled chestnut locks, gathering them up off her face in different places and studying the effect on her overall look. Finally she released her grip, allowing loose curls to tumble about her shoulders. With a shrug, she left the bathroom and headed out into the parking lot.

It wouldn't be long before the hour was up, so she hopped onto the back of the Impala, one leg crossed over the other as she waited for Dean.

When he stepped outside, all he could see was all he'd ever wanted. A beautiful girl, full of sass and humor and the kind of love for humanity only a hunter could possess, sitting on his car. If he had to describe the scene before him in one word, it would be "future." Whenever Dean pictured his future, this was what he'd dared not hope for - a woman wholeheartedly crazy about him and the only thing he's ever called home. It took his breath away.

"Now that is a sight for sore eyes." He smiled as he drew nearer, gaze never leaving her face.

The smile she returned was genuine, her heart fluttering with anticipation as she slid off the trunk. "Can you tell me where we're going now?"

"Nope." With a grin he headed straight for the driver's side door, her eyes following him thoughtfully.

Gwen rounded the car, climbing into the front and looking pointedly at him. "Just when are you going to tell me where you're taking me?"

White teeth gleamed as he grinned tauntingly. "When we get there."

It wasn't a long drive, fifteen minutes at most. But the route seemed to double back on itself at times. Gwen wasn't sure if he was trying to confuse her or if he was actually getting lost. She didn't voice any questions, though, instead keeping the conversation light. Dean was glad for the small talk, one hand on the wheel and the other curved around hers with their fingers intertwined.

She noticed an undertone of nerves in him and gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. "Everything ok?"

"Yeah." He glanced at her, a poor attempt at a nonchalance painted on his features.

"You know you can tell me anything, right?"

"Yeah…" a second glance and he released the tension in his shoulders, almost slouching back against the seat. "This whole … dating thing. I've never done anything like this. I just don't want to screw up."

"You won't screw up." Gwen's thumb traced back and forth over the back of his hand. "I don't care what we do. I would be just as thrilled to sit in front of the TV as I would to dress like a princess and go to the fanciest restaurant ever made."

"Uh, that whole 'fancy restaurant' thing …"

"I'm not saying I want to go someplace fancy."

"I know, I just …" he sighed. "I would give you the world if I could. But that whole tuxedos and eight forks and super-romantic date -"

"Ok." She interrupted. "Tell you what. This right here? It's not a date."

His chest sank, green eyes locking onto hers for a moment. "It's not?"

"Nope. Because you're right. This whole dating thing … it's not anything that we're used to. It's been almost seven years since I've been on a date. You're not the only one who's nervous, Dean. I've never been out with someone I've cared about this much. We've spent so much time together, laughing and hunting and going through things that most people can't even imagine. And we've made it through all of that in complete comfort with each other. But the truth is, I don't think either of us really know what to do right now. Not when it comes to the confines of a 'date'. So this? It's not a date. It's just us. The same two people who have shared the horror stories that are our pasts and lived through the kind of nightmares no one dreams. Just us, enjoying each other's company."

"Just us." He mused, nodding thoughtfully. "I like it."

The asphalt faded away when he turned onto a road nearly hidden in thick brush and trees. If he was waiting for her to comment on the direction they were taking, she said nothing about it, choosing instead to continue the flow of conversation uninterrupted. They had only a few more minutes of jostling drive when the road suddenly ended, an expanse of grass and wildflowers stretching before them. The meadow was larger than any she'd seen before, beautiful flowers of purple, pink, and yellow gathered in overflowing bunches dotting the field.

Dean put the Impala in park and shut off the engine. "We're here."

"It's beautiful." Her eyes drank in the scene, shallow breaths causing gentle movements in her chest as if she were afraid any sudden move would break the spell of beauty before her. "How did you find this place?"

"Ah, I, uh, quizzed the locals."

"What?" Her head swiveled to look at him, taking in the small smile and the sheen of embarrassment in his eyes.

"I wanted to do something other than the typical 'romance' you see in TV and movies. So no dinner and a movie, no dance clubs, no moonlit walks on a beach. I wanted something quiet and … different."

Her smile was warm, eyes glowing with emotion. "It's perfect."

They left the confines of the car, Gwen pausing to look over the meadow again as Dean went to open the trunk. Even though it was February, the air was a comfortable warmth because they were in the southern reaches of Florida.

"Don't laugh." He warned as he closed the lid and walked over to her carrying a basket topped with blankets.

"Did you plan a picnic?"

"Maybe I was on the same wavelength as you. … I kind of wanted tonight to just be for the two of us."

"Now why would I laugh at that?" She smiled as they stepped out into the meadow, settling down a few yards away from the Impala.

Dean spread out one of the blankets, the both of them sitting comfortably before he began to unpack the rest. Though the blanket was more than large enough for the both of them, they chose to sit near each other, legs so close they touched. There were two more blankets - "just in case the ground was too hard," he told her - a cooler with bottles of beer, and a meal of "town famous" burgers thick with tomatoes, lettuce, and crispy fried onion petals and a tub of homemade potato salad.

"Where did you get all this?"

"There was this awesome old dude standing outside the market and he told me all the town 'secrets'. The meadow, the town's famous burgers, and this little shop that supposedly sells the best potato salad you'll ever eat."

Gwen opened two bottles of the beer while Dean set out the food. As they ate, the sun began to set, filling the sky with pinks and oranges. It was not only a delicious meal, but the ambiance was that of peace and tranquility. She couldn't remember the last time she'd actually watched the sun set, every minute that passed ushering out the sky blue hues, navy and midnight shades creeping over the expanse of atmosphere. Slowly, the black of night crept over the horizon, thousands of stars glimmering above. The full moon shone so brightly that the meadow seemed positively alight with its glow.

They sat in silence at times, both appreciating the beauty of nature. Dean had shifted once the food was done, pulling her so that her back rested against his chest as they drank and stargazed. Every so often, one would say something to the other, murmured words only for the two of them breaking the silence.

"You know," Gwen's voice was quiet, "I can't remember the last time I did anything like this."

"You mean the last time you had a picnic with a guy?" He teased.

"No." She elbowed him lightly. "I mean watching the sun set. Stargazing. Actually being outside and enjoying the experience of just being."

His arms wound about her tighter, a tiny squeeze of appreciation. "I aim to please."

She snickered at that and he leaned aside to look at her quizzically. "What? What did I say?"

"Nothing." She shook her head. "Just my mind in the gutter."

He smirked. "The perfect place to be, in my opinion."

"Oh shut up. You just want me all hot and bothered."

Lips brushed the hollow of her neck. "Now why would you say such a thing."

She swallowed, trying to ignore the electric signals that shot down her torso as his mouth pressed and nibbled against her skin. Her words came out in a breathy whisper, "Because you like pressing my buttons."

"What buttons?" he mocked innocence even as one hand worked at and undid the bottom button of her jacket.

"Don't you pretend like you have no idea what I'm saying." Her eyes were closed, head leaned back against him as the lightest graze of teeth teased her skin. The second button was nimbly undone, leaving only the top one fastened.

"I just don't understand why you're accusing me of such horrible things." How could a tone sound so sweet and innocent even while wicked fingers opened the last button and trailed between her breasts, brushing out over her stomach?

She turned, pressing her mouth to his. Long fingers lifted away from her torso, alighting ever so gently on cheek and jaw. Gwen leaned slowly, the two of them dropping to lie on the blanket. She lay on her back, his forearm beneath her neck as a makeshift pillow. Dean stretched out on his side, his hand resting on the curve just above her hip.

She placed a hand on his chest, caressing down to his stomach before turning, fingers stretching downward. They continued their descent, Dean breaking the kiss and pulling away when they skimmed the zipper of his jeans.

"Hey, whoa." Green eyes bore into hers seriously. "You said you wanted to wait."

"We have," she purred.

"Gwen." He spoke with determination. "You wanted this to be different, right?"

Though dark eyes glimmered with lust, she answered with sincerity, "Dean, when is the last time you waited a few weeks after meeting someone to sleep with them?"

"That … is a _really_ good point."

And his lips were on hers again, an urgency now filling his kisses. The hand that had only been brushing with the lightest of caresses was now pressing firmly, gathering the fabric of her shirt into its grip before releasing and moving up to palm one breast. A soft moan rumbled from her throat, igniting a desperate ache in his core.

There was no tranquil peace left in them. Instead, fingers tore at clothing, ripping off layers to expose the heart of their desperation. Dean pulled one blanket under her head as he hovered over her, the second he shook out and swept over them to keep the coolness of night at bay. Leaning to the side and digging into his jeans, he pulled out his wallet and retrieved a condom. Teeth tore the package open and he quickly rolled it on.

"Are you sure?" he whispered against her mouth.

"Dean, now." she groaned frenziedly. "Please. Now."

Normally he would take his time with foreplay, delighting in each little squeal he could draw forth. But tonight he couldn't bear to wait any longer; his need to be inside her would not be assuaged. He gripped his cock, rubbing the head up and down her slick folds. Even through the condom, he could tell that she was incredibly wet. A groan broke through his lips at the realization. She was trembling below him, eyes squeezed shut in an attempt to hold off the demanding need that burned within. With a sigh, he pushed slowly until she began to envelop him. Inch by inch he sank into her, nearly losing his mind at just how tightly she held him.

Her trembling stopped, every single muscle wound so tightly she was afraid she'd turn to stone. It was agonizing bliss, the way he stretched and filled her. Just as he pushed in the last inch, she felt the sweet tinge of pain that came from reaching her limits, the tip of his head pressing against her cervix.

"Fuck." The whispered word was drawn out into multiple syllables. He wasn't the biggest she'd had. At least not as far as length was concerned, but that was actually a point in his favor. Any longer and it would just be painful – something she'd learned a few years past when she'd wound up in bed with a 10 inch cowboy. It hadn't been a very enjoyable night.

He was, however, the widest she'd had, and the sensation of being completely filled in a way she'd never been before was overwhelming.

He hissed when her inner muscles spasmed, gripping and releasing him tantalizingly. "God, you're so tight."

"No, you're just fucking huge." She opened her eyes, squinting a bit at the pressure of being so stretched out by him. "Just give me a minute to adjust."

He kissed her softly. "I'm not going anywhere."

She stared up at him, his gorgeous face framed by millions of stars. And she knew then that she was lost. There would be no leaving him after this. No matter what they had to face in the coming days, they would do it side by side. Being with Dean was like finally coming home. "_Not lost,_" she thought. "_I've been found._"

God, she radiated joy. He found himself staring, wholly captivated by her beauty. There could never be anything more important to him than her. He'd spend the rest of his life bringing that glow to her eyes if she'd let him. All he wanted was to make her happy.

His cock twitched and her breath caught in her throat. She squeezed her muscles around him, reveling in the way his lids dropped and a low moan tripped from his lips. With a shudder, he slowly pulled back and pushed back in, drawing the most seductive little whimper from her. And then he began to pump, slowly at first to allow her more time to adjust if she needed it.

The moon's light bathed them in an ethereal glow and for a time it seemed like they were the only two in the world. Her arms encircled his back, holding him as close as possible while he moved within her. She felt her legs draw up, heels tucked against the curve of his ass and it spurred him to thrust faster, drawing out and driving back in to grind against her cervix.

"Gwen," he groaned.

She mewled, feeling the familiar tightening of an oncoming orgasm. He began to pound, desperate to hear her blissful cries. The sound of their bodies slapping pushed her higher and she moaned throatily, nails digging into the bare skin of his back.

"Fuck." He ground out, tossing his head back in elation.

Breathy sounds escaped as she drew close, every muscle taut and straining. "I'm … I'm …"

Her voice changed in pitch then, shifting higher as a moan tumbled from her lips. She bore down, gripping him so tightly that he shuddered but didn't slow. And then she broke over the edge, her orgasmic cries filling the meadow as she climaxed.

Her screams worked in tandem with the delicious tightness coiled around his dick and he found himself tripping over the edge with her. He came hard, the way one did only after prolonged abstinence. A long, drawn out groan tore from him as his thrusting began to slow. He lowered his forehead to hers when he stilled, not wanting to withdraw just yet.

It was then that he knew.

Dean Winchester was in love.


	31. Chapter 31

They lay entwined beneath the stars sandwiched between the blankets Dean had packed. He was lying on his back, Gwen curled up beside him with her head resting above his heart. One arm was tucked beneath her, the other strewn over his chest. Both legs were wound around one of his. He held her close, his arms wrapped about her in a tender embrace.

Nightlife sounds were soft, adding to the idyllic scene. Hours stretched before them, open to any possibility. They felt like they could take on the world at that moment, like nothing could ever be wrong again.

"As much as I don't want to move, you know we can't spend the night out here, right?" She murmured sleepily, cuddling up to him with a little sigh.

"I know. I prefer a bed over the ground anyways."

They remained a short time longer, before finally rising and throwing on their clothes. Everything was packed into the picnic basket, which Dean returned to the trunk before moving to the driver's side door. Gwen was already in the car, fussing with the seat belt when he climbed in. The ignition turned over, a low rumble breaking the silence as the Impala sprang to life. Dean took her hand as he drove, not wanting to be without some kind of contact. Gwen reached their clasped hands onto his leg, so that he wouldn't have to stretch while driving.

Classic rock drifted softly from the radio. When they turned off the dirt track and onto the paved road, Gwen became hyper aware of just how close her hand was to a certain part of his anatomy. She wiggled her hand out of his, flipping it so she could slide down and gently massage his inner thigh.

"Gwen…"

She smirked, fingers applying pressure rhythmically, one after another. "Dean."

His breath caught in his throat and he shifted in his seat. "You know I'm driving, right?"

"Mmm." She answered noncommittally.

"Do you want me to crash?"

"Of course not." Fingers didn't let up, adding in a grasping motion to the massage. "I want you to hurry."

"Are you always this insatiable?" He turned his head to look her up and down, a smirk of his own attempting to hide the desire she was building in him.

"Not always." She leaned toward him with a wicked smile. "You must bring it out in me."

The drive back was shorter than the drive out. When he pulled in and parked they both practically jumped out of the car. Instead of heading for her motel room, Dean rounded the Impala and pulled her into his arms, hot mouth crushing hers. His hands roamed her back, down her spine and out over her hips, sneaking further down to knead her ass.

She jumped up, legs wrapping around his waist. He held her easily, one hand still cupping the curve of her ass, the other moving to wrap around her back once more. Her fingers were in his hair, tongue darting into his mouth expertly. A soft groan spoke his passion and he blindly stumbled in the direction of her door.

When they reached it, he pulled the key from his pocket and broke the kiss so he could see the knob. She nibbled at his neck as he opened the door, sweeping them inside. It hadn't even fully closed and she was pushing the leather jacket off his shoulders. They left a trail of clothing in their wake as he made his way across the room, falling onto the bed.

Though her fingers grasped, hands insistently tugging in a silent plea, Dean wanted to take his time. She was in as much of a rush as she had been in the meadow, but now that he had her where he wanted her, he was going to draw out her pleasure. He'd always loved making the women he slept with feel good, but it was different with Gwen. It wasn't about proving his prowess or drawing pleasure from giving pleasure; he wanted to please _her_. He wanted to find every erogenous zone, learn all the little ways that could make her gasp. He wanted to memorize every inch of her body with his tongue, to fill the room with her squeals and sighs, to so overload her with gratification that she felt her bones had turned to gelatin. Which is why he placed his forearms on either side of her and bent to kiss her neck.

Her head turned to the side, exposing her neck as an offering to him; one that he accepted with a gentle trail of kisses. As he made his way down, lips passing over her clavicle and onto her chest, she squirmed. Her thighs were pressed together so tightly that her legs had begun to tremble. Desperate to be filled again, her imploring voice cracked, "Dean."

The way she said his name sent a shiver down his spine. He'd never heard anything so sensual in his life. But he acted as though it hadn't effected him, continuing his path of kisses.

"Shhhhh," he murmured against her skin. "Just let me."

His mouth closed over her nipple, sucking it in and sliding his tongue over it. She gasped as his tongue swirled, eyelids lowering blissfully. One hand lifted from the bed, cupping her breast and holding it in place. His lips parted, pointed tongue lapping at the very tip of her nipple before rolling in little circles around it. Dean palmed her other breast, his hand playfully grasping at the soft flesh as he rubbed the pad of his thumb in wide circles, tantalizingly avoiding the tip. He licked and laved, sucked and nibbled until her breaths came in shuddering puffs. As his tongue performed devilish ministrations, he drew increasingly smaller circles with his thumb, each pass drawing closer until it gently rubbed over her nipple.

Gwen sighed, limbs trembling. She was amazed at how good she felt. And when his lips lifted from one breast, settling contentedly on the other with the lightest graze of teeth, she received the shock of her life. Her squeal was sudden, forced out by the rippling waves of orgasmic delight that spread through her body. She'd never climaxed from nipple play before.

He shifted over her, sliding his hand down her torso and between her legs. One finger smoothed down her slit, curling up to slip between. While his tongue continued to swirl and lave, his finger slid up and down her lips. She shivered when he found her bud and began to roll his fingertip in lazy circles.

Simultaneously, he clamped onto her breast, sucking hard and thrust his finger into her. Her thighs clenched around his hand, a cry breaking from her lips. Pumping a few times to thoroughly coat his finger with her juices, he withdrew and slicked up to rub her clit with fervor. She squealed again, legs so tightly clenched that they shook. Her hips lifted from the mattress as sensations grew.

Was it really possible for a finger to move that fast?

She was panting now, body straining. Then the joyous explosion, ripples of pleasure washing over her and a strangled cry. Her body felt liquid and fuzzy; the sweet afterglow that she enjoyed almost as much as the orgasm itself. All her muscles relaxed, her mind devoid of thoughts. Gwen would have been content to be done for the evening.

But Dean had other plans.

He sat up and shifted down the bed, wrapping a hand around her ankle. He slid it up, her leg bending at the knee, and grasped the other ankle.

"Hmmm." Her sound was soft as a sigh, almost sleepy as he repeated the motion.

Then he settled himself and stretched one long lick between her folds. Her hips shot upward when he reached the oversensitive bud, as if she were trying to move out of reach. With a smirk he placed one hand on each hip, pulling her back down and burying his face in her. She smelled amazing. Tasted even better. And the whimpers she made while his tongue roved? Heaven.

He alternated consistently to keep her on her toes: a flat wide tongue or a thin pointed one, long slow licks or fast flicking laps. She never knew what was coming next, especially since he couldn't seem to decide if he wanted to lave her clit or thrust his tongue into her. It all drove her higher. She passed the point that would normally spark her climax and mind-blowingly continued higher. It was too much and it wasn't enough. Every muscle pulled taut, a sheen of sweat coating pale skin. Tears sprang into her eyes; she felt delirious.

Strong hands pulled her closer and he moaned against her pussy. It broke her. She shrieked as she came, a gush of liquid coating his chin. He chuckled as he sat up, rubbing his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes glowing.

Suddenly she felt very self-conscious. "Sorry..."

"Don't be." He hovered over her before pressing his mouth to hers. "That was awesome."

She giggled, the blush in her cheeks speaking her slight embarrassment. "It really, really was."

He grinned before bounding from the bed in search of a condom. Digging a strawberry flavored one out of her duffle bag, he returned to the bed as she was sitting up.

She reached out a hand, "Here. Let me."

He tossed it to her and she opened it deftly, shimmying off the bed and gesturing to the space she had just vacated. With a smirk, he took her place, eyeing her quizzically when she placed her mouth around the rim of the condom. And then she bent, placing the rubber onto his tip and pinching her lips just enough so that she could slowly unroll it down his shaft.

"Holy shit," he groaned.

Her palms never lifted from the sheet as she bobbed, the condom unrolling a little more with every movement. When she felt him at the back of her throat she used one hand to quickly unroll it the rest of the way and bobbed again, adding a little suction. Her tongue pressed against the underside of his cock, sliding up and down the shaft, curling against the extra-sensitive spot beneath the head with every pass.

She swirled her tongue around his shaft as she withdrew. "I know it's not as fun with a condom on, but I had to do _something_ as a thank you."

Gwen crawled up the bed, placing a knee on either side of him before leaning down to whisper, "I'll be sure to make it up to you."

And then she reached between them, gripping his cock firmly and placing the tip at her entrance. She sank down slowly, her puffy flesh spreading around him.

"_Fuck_." She hissed.

Her hands were placed on his chest as she began to bounce, head tossed back rapturously. It was an image Dean would take to his grave.

There was no outside world. No monsters in the night, no people in need of saving. No brothers and no responsibility. There was only the two of them and the passion they shared.


	32. Chapter 32

Sam found an interesting article that led them to Chicago. After renting uniforms for the alarm system company that the victim used, they were able to get into her apartment to study the crime scene. While there weren't any definitive clues as to the perpetrator's species, Dean discovered a strange symbol made from blood droplets on the floor. One that none of them had seen before.

After splitting up in search of answers, they met up at the bar where Meredith, the victim, had worked. Gwen and Dean were chatting with the bartender when Sam came in and headed for a table with his father's journal. Dean saw him first and tapped Gwen's arm before gesturing in Sam's direction. She nodded as he stepped away, speaking in low tones to the bartender for a moment longer before heading after him.

Sam looked up as she approached, "Get anything?"

With a smirk, she lifted two fingers to show off the napkin decorated with a string of 10 digits clamped between them before tossing it onto the table. Dean's eyes boggled.

"Really?" Sam rolled his eyes, "And here I thought we were done picking up strangers in bars."

"When did you get her number?"

"She waited for you to walk away before sliding it to me." Gwen replied with a grin.

Dean stared at her reverently. "You're the perfect woman."

"Because women find me attractive?" She laughed.

Sam cleared his throat. "Did you get anything _useful_ from the bartender?"

"Dude, she got her number!"

Sam glowered at his brother until Dean spoke defensively. "There's nothing to find out. I mean, Meredith worked here, she waited tables, everyone here was her friend. Everybody said she was normal. She didn't do or say anything weird before she died, so—what about that symbol, you find anything?"

"Nope, nothing. It wasn't in Dad's journal or in any of the usual books. I just have to dig a little deeper, I guess."

"Well, there was a first victim, right? Before Meredith?" Dean asked.

"Right. Yeah." Sam shuffled some papers around and pulled out a newspaper clipping. "His name was, uh - his name was Ben Swardstrom." He held the paper out to his brother. "Last month he was found mutilated in his town house. Same deal—the door was locked, the alarm was on."

"Any connection between the two of them?" Gwen asked as she peered over Dean's arm at the article.

"Not that I can tell - I mean, not yet, at least. Ben was a banker, Meredith was a waitress. They never met, never knew anyone in common - they were practically from different worlds."

"So, to recap, the only successful intel we've scored so far is the bartender's phone number." Dean smirked.

Sam said nothing, instead staring quizzically across the room. Dean looked around, trying to place what his brother saw. "What?"

The younger Winchester stood and headed away from the table.

Dean called after him, "Sam?"

Sam didn't answer. Dean and Gwen exchanged a puzzled look.

"Where's he going?" Gwen watched Sam navigate the crowd before looking back to Dean, who was holding the napkin with a huge grin. She sighed, "We're not calling her."

"Aw, come on."

"Nope."

"Not even to just say hi?"

"Dean."

"Maybe she's looking for friends?"

"That's not what she said when she handed it to me."

Green eyes sparkled. "What did she say?"

Gwen shook her head. "Doesn't matter."

"You're not going to tell me? Come on – I would tell you!"

She laughed. "Oh, I'm sure you would. Whether I wanted you to or not."

"Please?"

"No."

"Gwe-en," he cajoled.

She shook her head again, a smile on her face, as she stood up. "I'm going to go find out where your brother is."

"Aw, come on."

With a giggle, she set off in the direction Sam had gone. Dean followed behind her sulkily. They saw Sam with a young blonde and approached while the two were still talking.

"Oh, I did." The girl was saying. "I came, I saw, I conquered. Oh, and I met what's-his-name, something Michael Murray at a bar."

"Who?" Sam's brows furrowed slightly.

"Oh, it doesn't matter." She waved him off. "Anyway, the whole scene got old, so I'm living here for a while."

Dean cleared his throat in an attempt to break into their conversation, but was ignored.

"You're from Chicago?" Sam asked.

She shook her head. "No, Massachusetts - Andover. Gosh, Sam, what are the odds we'd run into each other?"

"Yeah, I know, I thought I'd never see you again."

"Well I'm glad you were wrong."

Sam nodded amicably and Dean cleared his throat again, slightly louder this time. The girl looked at him with disgust. "Dude, cover your mouth."

Gwen arched a brow as Sam looked from Dean back to the girl. "Yeah, um, I'm sorry, Meg. This is, uh, - this is my brother, Dean, and that's Gwen."

"This is Dean?" Meg asked.

"Yeah."

"So, you've heard of me?" Dean grinned.

"Oh, yeah. I've heard of you." Meg crossed her arms. "Nice – the way you treat your brother like luggage."

"Sorry?" Dean looked confused.

"Ex-_cuse_ me?" Gwen's temper flared.

"Why don't you let him do what he wants to do?" Meg's tone was wholly confrontational. "Stop dragging him over God's green earth."

Sam tried to intervene. "Meg, it's alright."

"The hell it is." Gwen glowered, nostrils flaring. "Who the fuck are _you_? You know nothing about Dean or his relationship with Sam."

"Look -" Meg started, but Gwen interrupted.

"No. I will not stand here and listen to this complete and utter bullshit from someone who's head is so far up her own ass -"

Dean grabbed her arm and gently pushed her in the direction of the bar. "We're going to go get a drink."

He tossed a puzzled look back at Sam and guided Gwen to the bar.

"Fucking bitch." Gwen muttered under her breath.

"I know, honey." Dean said soothingly.


	33. Chapter 33

The trio met up outside the bar, discussing Meg Masters and Sam's concern over the peculiarity of running into her again. After asking Dean to look into the symbol they'd found and to see if there really was a girl from Andover with her name, Sam said he was going to keep an eye on her. The older Winchester found this highly amusing and teased his brother mercilessly about his new found "pervy" behavior.

Gwen rolled her eyes and made a face. "Don't like her, Sammy. If I have to put up with her being around, I'll wind up killing her."

Sam just shook his head as she and Dean walked across the street toward their motel room. Much to Gwen's disappointment, they found a Meg Masters in the Andover phone book. She'd wanted there to be something wrong with the girl to justify her hatred.

The symbol, they discovered from John Winchester's friend Caleb, was Zoroastrian – a sigil for Daeva. Daevas, meaning demon of darkness, were savage creatures; the equivalent of demonic pit bulls, as Dean told Sam over the phone when he'd called to share what they'd found. The creatures could be summoned and controlled, but it was a risky endeavor, as the demons often turned on those who held the leash.

When Sam returned, he had an interesting story to tell. He had followed Meg to an abandoned warehouse, where he overheard her talking to and taking orders from someone through a goblet of blood, and found an altar with human hearts and the Daeva sigil drawn in blood. While digesting this information, Dean looked through the files on the two victims and was shocked to find that both had been born in Lawrence, Kansas.

Could Meg be involved with the demon that had killed Mary and started the Winchesters hunting?

They decided to watch the warehouse since Meg was supposed to be meeting whoever was giving her orders. While Dean left a voice mail for John, asking him to meet them, Sam gathered weapons from the trunk. Gwen rushed through a shower while they loaded guns and talked.

When they got to the warehouse, Gwen began to panic. They'd taken the stairs up to the second level and then Sam pointed out the elevator shaft he had climbed, since the next set of stairs were locked. It would be no problem for the brothers, but her legs were too short to climb as Sam had. Normally she would just pull herself up the elevator cable, but not if she wanted to carry her bag of weapons with her.

"I don't like this." She glowered at Dean.

"We have to go up there. You know that."

"Yes, but not this very second! You can wait for me to come back with the lock pick for that stairwell."

"The longer we wait, the higher the risk of missing whoever it is she's taking orders from. … This could be what we've been waiting 22 years for, Gwen."

"I know!" Her voice cracked and she swallowed furiously. "You don't think I know how important this is? You could finally stop the this monster from hurting anyone else. But, Dean -"

Sam broke in. "He's not going to be alone."

Brown eyes filled with tears and she sniffled lightly. "I know. I know that you can handle yourself and I know that Sam will have your back. But this is Daevas. This is the thing that killed your mom. So the thought of you going up there without me, where I can't protect you..."

"I'll be ok." He said softly.

"I can't lose you too." She whispered.

Dean drew in a breath. "Ok. Go get the lock pick. We'll wait as long as we can."

She threw herself into his arms, wrapping herself around him as tightly as she could. He kissed her tenderly before she pulled away and said, "I'll be right back. I promise."

As she scurried down the stairs, Dean let out a breath. He looked to Sam, immediately recognizing the look in his eye as one that spoke frustration. Though, Sam's voice was perfectly calm when he began with, "Dean, -"

"Let's go." Dean walked to the elevator, hoisting the duffle bag of weapons onto his shoulder. Gwen would kill him later, he knew. It wasn't that he didn't understand her fears. No, he knew them too well. Because as she was speaking her worries, he felt them in his gut. And just as badly as she didn't want him facing these enemies without her, he didn't want her facing them at all. "Hopefully we can deal with all this before she gets back."

He knew it wasn't likely.


End file.
